


Beloved of the Savior

by tinypixy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypixy/pseuds/tinypixy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan AU - Killian Jones is a normal guy with a normal New York City life until the day he dreams a very vivid dream about a mysterious (and strangely familiar) woman begging him to find her. When he wakes up from his troubled sleep he can’t help but wonder… was this really just a dream..?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

Green. Suddenly everything went green. An emerald haze that surrounded my body and belted my soul like algae in the sea. A lime mist that wasn’t cold, yet it wasn’t warm, either. Like smoke it forced itself into my lungs, very slowly, gently almost, gradually kissing every single one of my alveolae with its bilious touch. I could feel it inside of me, the invisible hand that was chocking me from within, denying me to breathe, compelling me to surrender. Yet I knew, it wasn’t really there. None of this was real. I was stuck, somewhere, lying here on the hard, dark ground, covered in green. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I knew, by the smell of it, by the taste of it, the smoke had the color of nightshade, just as green and just as wicked. The pain inside of my chest increased slowly yet steadly, the fog delicately scratching the inner of my skin. Like the result of a thousand paper cuts I began to feel the burn. I couldn’t open my mouth to release the scream but when my good hand clenched into a fist I felt cold blood running down my palm when the nails of my fingers drilled into the tight skin of my hand. I wanted to run, but the muscles of my body remained still. I was helpless, at the mercy of the green flames. These were my last breaths for the suffocating smoke forbade my lungs to work and I felt the haze reaching my mind. It clouded my head, dimming my senses and blurring my consciousness; denying me to stay yet declining me to go. I would be stuck here forever, but I wouldn’t really _be_ here. Caught inbetween, I would just remain. Right when my lungs released my last exhale, though, I felt the warmth of a lucency, a white cloud as radiant as the sun, coming closer to me, heating me with its pale rays. It tenderly covered my whole body as if it was trying to protect me from the evil green and as it came closer to my face, I felt the warmth almost touching my mouth, resting for a moment in the air that filled the gap between my skin and its own self. And then, like a sudden rush, the white cloud kissed my lips, making them glow with a bright light that traveled through me like a white wave, ejecting every bit of the wicked smoke out of my body and releasing me from its pains.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Why can’t you just leave when you’re supposed to, just like anybody else,’ he thought, releasing a sigh and checking his watch. Killian always was the first one to show up at work and the last one to leave, unable to reduce his dedication to his work at the Hayden Planetarium in New York City. The planetarium was part of the American Museum of Natural History and it was his job to plan new exhibitions and tour small groups of visitors through the museum. They had various tours to offer yet the Earth and Space Tour was his favorite. He loved the night sky and he knew almost every constellation that was dated till now. Right now there wasn’t a single star at the sky, though, leaving Killian with the assumption that it must have been very cloudy today. ‘Shit,’ he thought, ‘I should’ve taken my jacket with me, it’s bloody frosty and it’s only October!’ Just when he crossed his arms across his chest, he heard a cracking under the soles of his shoes.

“What the-,“ Killian was surprised by the sudden sight of snow on the ground. A thick layer of white puffy snow in the middle of October! Killian’s mouth gapped at the sight, his brows furrowed in disbelieve.

“Bloody climate change,” he shook his head. Then, as if running through a hard pane of glass, a freezing cold gust of wind passed him by, making his whole body tremble with shivers. But it wasn’t only the wind that made him shake, it was a whisper that reached his ears along with it.

 _“K i l l i a n,”_ a delicate voice travelled with the wind. Again and again…

 _“K i l l i a n.”_ He looked around, slight panic in his neck.

“Hello?” he said, but nobody answered. He was alone in the dark alley. Killian shook his head, yet again, convinced he needed a vacation as soon as possible. But just when he took another step, he heard it one more time.

 _“K i l l i a n.”_ No, he was sure, someone was there, watching him. He didn’t just made this up in his head.

“Hello?” he raised his voice now, his eyes trying to scan every corner of the street, but without any moonlight it seemed almost impossible to see anything. ‘Damn it,’ he thought, why hadn’t he chosen a shortcut that featured some street light? He was living in New York long enough to know that these weren’t exactly the safest places to spend your evenings at. But Killian tried to stay calm. It must have been someone from work, he thought, trying to mess with him. Who else would know his name? ‘I bet it’s Shelley,’ he convinced himself. ‘She’s the queen of pranks for a reason.’ But something about all of this felt curiously odd.

“Shelley is that you?” he shouted now. Killian heard the sound of thunder. Another shiver ran down his spine. He swallowed hard. This wasn’t Shelley, somehow he felt it deep in his guts.

“WHO ARE YOU?” A second thunder.

“I KNOW YOU’RE TH-“ Killian’s eyes widened when the flash of lightning suddenly revealed the figure of a blonde woman, looking at him with the greatest sadness reflecting in her eyes. She was wearing a white ball gown and her pale hair fell in loose waves across her shoulders. Killian’s dry mouth gapped slightly, not able to form a single word. He just looked at her… her muddy eyes, her pale lips, her silver hair… this woman looked as much as a stranger as she looked familiar. But who was she and how did she know his name? He took a deep breath, preparing himself to ask her, but just when he opened his mouth a little more to question the woman with the sorrow eyes, the wind started to get stronger, blowing furiously and with no mercy. It was very hard to keep his balance, but Killian managed to fight the storm. One arm covered his eyes from the snow that spun around while his other hand tried to reach for the woman, but somehow he couldn’t move. As much as he tried to walk forward, he couldn’t. He was helpless. The woman remained just looking at him, her hair flying in the air. But there was something odd about her eyes… the way she looked at him, it felt so intimate… Then she finally opened her mouth, shouting against the loud storm.

“GO FIND ME, KILLIAN.” And then a blast took her away, the humming of the wind echoing two more words…

_“s a v e ~  m e."_

Killian’s eyes widened in horror, his forehead covered in sweat. His mouth was dry and his throat felt sore because of his heavy breathing. He moved his right hand to his eyes, rubbing the shock out of them. He heard a sigh leaving his lips, heavily.

“Just a dream…,” he murmured to himself, relief in his voice. It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed such a nightmare. Sometimes he dreamed of the stormy sea, sometimes he found himself in the middle of the dark woods, but all of them had one thing in common: a mysterious blonde woman. It was the first time, though, that he had seen her face. As he got up and took off his sweaty sleep pants and shirt to take a shower, he he still saw her features in front of his eyes. It was such a clear, such a vivid image of her, it almost felt as if she was branded to his mind. Facing the cool water now, Killian tried to force himself to forget her again. The rhythmic drumming of the drops that hit his skin calmed him down a bit, slowing down his pulse to a normal rate. ‘It was just a stupid dream,’ he reminded himself. ‘No need to freak out.’

After he had dressed and finished his coffee, Killian grabbed his bag and keys and opened the door. Outside he met Mrs. Rooney and Murdock, the one love of his life, who were just about to enter their own apartment.

“Heyyy lad,” Killian kneeled down to the dog, instantly starting to pet him while the Border Collie gently licked his cheek.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones,” the old widow smiled.

“How are you doing today?” Killian looked up from the dog, wearing a faint smile on his face.

“Good, thanks Mrs. Rooney. And how are you?”

“Good, good. Just having a little cold. Murray and I have to stay at home for a while, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry to hear that, maybe I can help out? I can take Murray this weekend, if you like?” The lady smiled gratefully.

“That would be very helpful, Mr. Jones. That’s very thoughtful of you. As always.” Her kind gaze found his.

“It’s alright, really, I’m happy to help.” Killian smiled a bright smile now, looking back at the Collie, who seemed to like the idea as well.

“Well, then, have a good day, Mr. Jones.”

“Good day, Mrs. Rooney,” Killian nodded, getting up again.

Leaving the building, he had almost forgotten about the nightmare. Yet, the weird feeling in his stomach didn’t leave him. Killian shook his head again, placing his headphones in his ear. Maybe some music would distract him, he thought. And when he pressed play, the smooth jazz rhythms really managed to relax his mind. With every step and every breath he took, he felt lighter, the deep bass and the quick piano tunes reaching every single cell of his body. Killian crossed the street and if this wasn’t New York City and people right next to him wouldn’t rush to work, he’d just stay there, closing his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun… but then, suddenly, Killian’s feet indeed stopped walking, which caused a collision with several (very mad) New York City citizens, followed with some very nasty swearwords. But Killian couldn’t care less. His eyes were locked onto a scenery he couldn’t believe was actually happening. Killian’s mouth opened in disbelief, his blue eyes wide and blinking. Right across the street there was a blonde woman entering the junior high school together with what seemed to be her son, and when she looked to her back, for just a second, he was sure. He felt the brandmark in his mind itching with certainty. This was her; the woman from his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

When Killian Jones opened his eyes, they glistened in curiosity. He was lying in his bed, rubbing the fatigue out of them. The last night had denied him much sleep, but he must have dozen off a little, he guessed, for he remembered bits of a strange but familiar dream that still hazed his mind with a little discomposure. As the clock went ticking, though, he forgot more and more about the details, which left him with nothing more than a weird feeling in his stomach. Yet one thing, he failed to forget…  

‘ _Go find me, Killian… Save me…_ ’

The words rang in his ears, like echoes from a long lost memory... It was the second time he had dreamed this dream and Killian had this odd misgiving that it wouldn’t be the last time. He took a deep breath, his eyes lightly squinted and his brows furrowed. As the sunrays shone through his slightly soiled window, he recalled the reason of his virtually sleepless night. He had spent half of the past hours thinking about the mysterious woman he had seen the day before; both, in his dream as well as on the streets of New York City. ‘How can this be?’ he asked himself, over and over again. The more he thought about it, the more the visions blurred into a cloudy mist, shape shifting with every second that passed. The images in his head entwined with other patterns in his memory which led to a great uncertainty in Killian’s stomach by the end of the night.

‘What if my eyes just tricked me?’ he thought. ‘There’s no chance it was the same woman. After all, it was just another dream, wasn’t it?’ But something in the depth of his chest didn’t convince himself to answer this question with a simple ‘ _yes’_ , leaving him uneasy and restless. Killian led out a deep sigh, a growl almost, rolling himself out of his bed. It was still early and he had plenty of time to get ready for work, so he decided to get out and get some fresh air (and lots of coffee). After a quick shower he left his apartment, still not entirely sure where his feet would take him…

\--

Killian’s arms rested on his thighs, his torso bent forward in a tense shape. Without even taking any note of it, his feet tapped to the ground, as if he was feeling a beating rhythm in them. He squinted his eyes slightly, as he saw several teenagers entering the school. Killian had fought his inner urge to revisit the crime scene, but he hadn’t made it for too long. After circling the block about three times, he had finally sat down on a bench, right across the school. He wouldn’t allow himself to think it out loud, but he was hoping he would see _her_ again. The rational thinking part of his brain still forbade him to take this dream too seriously, but his intuition told him very differently. At the end of the day, it hadn’t been the first time he had dreamed about a blonde woman. Even though he had seen her face only once in his sleep, he was still convinced that it had always been the same ghost that haunted his dreams. But how could it be? How was she alive? How was she part of his reality? But no, Killian shook his head, she must have simply resembled her. The more he thought about it, the more he grew certain about the fact that he had been way too far from her, anyways, to see her properly; he must have been mistaken. As his mind was still occupied with all of these different question marks, his eyes perceived the boy - being alone. And within the next beat of his heart, the young stranger was gone, entering the school. Killian felt a vague streak of disappointment in his chest. He sighed, smiling faintly and shaking his head again.

‘Get it together, Jones,’ he told himself, ‘It was coincidence, nothing more. You’re not living in a bloody tale, for God’s sake!’ And with that he arose from the bench, demanding his feet to bring him back home again.

\--

It had been two days since Killian had last seen the blonde woman’s face in his dreams and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. His co-workers had made fun of him, telling him he looked as if he was trying to solve the meaning of life with his deeply furrowed brows and stern looks. Killian tried to smile it off, but maybe they weren’t even that wrong about him… During lunch break he decided to take a little walk. His apartment wasn’t far away from the museum and it wasn’t unusual for him to eat at his own place, so nobody asked him when he was leaving. The truth was, though, that he wanted to visit the school, yet again. He couldn’t help it but he felt this physical ache to see her once more. He just had to know, even though he was certain there wasn’t any chance it was the woman from his dreams. When Killian arrived, he sat down at the same bench he had picked just two days before. His sweaty hands rubbed against each other, nervously, as he waited. Then, only minutes after he had arrived, he saw some students leaving the building; the boy wasn’t among them. Killian felt his thin pulse beat behind his ears, his breath becoming heavier than usual.

‘What the bloody hell?’ he thought to himself, realizing the tension in his body. What was he doing here again? He couldn’t believe he had actually come here, to do what exactly? See a woman he _thought_ looked alike a blonde ghost from his dreams? Was he getting insane now? Killian started to grow very upset about his own behaviors and he was just about to get up from his place, when he felt a shadow near him. As he looked up to his right, he blinked in confusion.

It was the boy.

Without saying a single word, the young stranger sat down, next to him. Killian opened his mouth, but he couldn’t make himself speak. The brunette boy just looked straight forward, still not talking, so Killian mirrored his gaze, turning his head back to watch the walls of the school building. A few seconds passed until the boy turned to him again, lifting his hand.

“Sandwich?” he asked. Killian looked at him, raising a brow.

 “No, thank you,” he responded.

“Really? It’s super good, you know. My mom made it, she calls it her Thursday-Special,” he smiled now. Killian returned the smile.

“Well, if it’s _the_ infamous Thursday-Special, I can’t decline, can I?” The boy nodded, pleased with Killian’s answer, before he parted his sandwich into two separate pieces. The youngster offered him one of the halfs and when their fingers touched, Killian felt a weird connection between himself and the little stranger, cutting off his breath for a second. But when the boy, clearly unaffected by the touch, returned his eyes to the school, Killian decided to do the same. He bit into the sandwich, and bloody hell, the boy didn’t promise any nonsense! For a single heartbeat the marvelous taste of his small lunch made him forget about the reason why he had actually come here; but then the boy’s voice returned his mind to the perplexing state of reality.

“Are you my dad?” he asked with a casual tone. Killian's lashes fluttered.

“Wh-what?” The boy turned his head and looked him straight into his eyes.

“Are you my dad?” Killian's eyes widened.

“No. I mean- no…” he shook his head “I-I can assure you I’m not, lad.”

“Hm…” Killian spotted slight disappointment on his face.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, sincere curiosity in his voice. The boy shrugged.

“I don’t know. Why else would you keep coming here, looking for me?” Killian swallowed hard; he had noticed. And even more importantly, the boy grew up without a father, just like him. Suddenly he understood the youngster’s question, very well.

“No, I’m sorry.” Killian pursed his lips, but the boy only shrugged again.

“It’s okay, I guess. I was just hoping for a second…” Then he returned his head to meet Killian’s gaze again.

“I’m Henry, by the way.” Oh right, Killian realized, he hadn’t even introduced himself.

“Killian,” he said, offering him his right hand. Henry shook it before his eyes wandered to his prosthesis.

“What happened?” he asked. The delicate hairs on Killian’s neck rose as a shiver went through his entire body. Killian remembered black dust and a faint exhale; he remembered a touch on his cheek and the sound of a blade cutting the cold air. He felt an ache in his wrist; the doctors called it phantom pain. His eyes hardened as they looked into the distance. Henry noticed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Killian blinked again, as if he was awakening from a daydream.

“No, it’s… it’s alright, lad. I actually don’t really know. I found,” he cleared his throat, “myself in the ER, one day, and it was gone. Nobody could tell me what happened, but seemingly…” Killian swallowed again.

“What?” Henry wanted to know but as Killian looked into his face, he realized that he couldn’t tell this young boy what they had told him, years ago; he couldn’t tell him that it was a clear cut… that somebody must have actually cut it off. He couldn’t curse him with the mercilessness of nightmares.

“Nothing,” he just smiled. “Nobody could tell me what happened.” Henry kept staring at his fake hand.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whispered. Killian replied with an earnest smile.

“No worries, mate.” A few more seconds passed and Killian noticed, that the boy was debating with himself, whether or not to say what was on his mind. Then he finally sighed and parted his lips.

“I have to go back…” Henry sighed and Killian nodded. “Would you…” Henry returned his head to face him; to look him directly into his eyes, “would you, maybe, like to throw some balls at the weekend?” Killian raised his brow, his face reflecting bafflement.

“Um…” He honestly didn’t know what to answer. But then he remembered the boy’s question again…

 _“Are you my dad?”_ Killian remembered what it felt like, being alone…

“Well, that depends,” he answered, smiling at Henry, who looked nothing but confused.

“On what?” Killian bowed his head a little, his smile turning into a crooked one.

“Do you like dogs?” And then, like the sun coming out from behind dark clouds, the boy’s face lit up, his teeth shiny and white.

“Yes!” was his answer and Killian nodded.

“Then it’s settled. Saturday at Central Park?” Henry’s eyes shone with happiness.

“Done! 3 PM at the Bank Rock Bridge.” Killian approved, he spent most of his weekends by the lake, anyways. And with that Henry ran away, still wearing a smile on his lips.

\--

As Killian walked to the Bank Rock Bridge, Murdock by his side, he was secretly hoping that Henry wouldn’t come alone. Days had past and Killian couldn’t stop himself from drifting away. At home, at work, at dinner, at nights, no matter where he was, _she_ was on his mind. Like wind clearing a lake’s surface from the nightly fog, he wished he could just push the thoughts away, relieving his head from this exhausting state. He took a deep breath and before he could even realize, Murdock was running. Killian opened his mouth, ready to call him back, as he recognized Henry. The boy was waving at him, a football lying alone in the grass, and when Murdock reached him, Henry instantly started to pet the dog with great passion and joy. Killian smiled, being glad about having Murray with him today.

“Hello, there,” Killian greeted Henry and the boy replied with a big smile, still playing with the dog.

“What’s his name?” the boy wanted to know.

“Murdock. But we also call him Murray.”

“Murdock! Awesome name, what does it mean?” Killian blinked, his face puzzled.

“I… don’t know. I’ve never gave it a thought, actually.” The boy pursed his lips a little, but when he returned to find the dog again, it seemed as if he had forgotten about his question, already.

“Hey, Murdock! Nice to meet you!” The dog barked and Henry laughed, wearing the sweet shade of innocence in his ringing voice. Killian watched their careless play, sitting on a park bench across from them. He couldn’t deny that he felt a little disappointed that the boy had come alone, but he was still delighted to see young Henry acting his age after he had seen great concern written all over his face during their last meeting.  After a while, though, Henry ran closer to him to sit down next to his new friend, being breathless but evidently happy.

“Enjoying yourself?” Killian asked and Henry nodded, smiling a bright smile.

“Good,” Killian returned the smile.

“I always wanted a dog but my mom keeps telling me I can’t take care of a pet.” Henry panted. “I’d be _great_ with a pet!”

“I’m sure you would, lad, but I think you’re mother only wants your best. Taking care of a dog is a huge responsibility.” Henry shrugged, pursing his lips before he finally sighed.

“Yeah, I guess so…”

Then Killian cleared his throat, trying to sound casual when he asked Henry the first of many questions to come.

“You have no siblings to share the responsibility, I take it?”

“No, just me and my mom.” Killian nodded.

“Must feel lonesome, at times.”

“Yeah, sometimes it can be a little boring, I guess, especially when Walsh takes my mom out for dinner.”

“Walsh?” Killian asked, foreboding mocking the back of his neck, already.

“My mom’s boyfriend.” Killian had guessed right, feeling a faint streak of resentment in his stomach.

“You like him?” he asked, acting casual again.

“He’s alright. He likes my mom a lot and he makes her happy. That’s what matters.” Henry’s answer made Killian raise the corner of his mouth, stunned about the old soul that was living in this young body. He kept looking at the boy for a second longer before he returned his head to watch Murdock chasing some squirrels.

“So,” he said, raising a brow. “Why did you want to meet me here?”

“To spend time with you,” Henry responded, but the raspy shade in his voice revealed that there was another, a better reason for this meeting. Killian’s silence made Henry realize, that his answer didn’t convince him, yet. Henry took a deep breath.

“I actually… I wanted to tell you something.” It was as if Henry stopped breathing for a moment, but Killian didn’t notice.

“And that is?” The boy’s silence made Killian return his gaze to Henry, discovering his wrinkled forehead.

“You can tell me anything, mate,” he said only a heartbeat later, Killian’s voice soft and low now, trying to encourage his young friend.

“I’m worried you’d think I’m crazy, though.”

“I promise you, I won’t.” What could it be that troubled this young fellow to this extent, Killian wondered. Something in the reflections of Henry’s eyes reminded him of himself, Killian realized for a second, but the moment was gone before he had the chance to think about it any further. Henry only shook his head.

“No, you won’t believe me. I haven’t told anyone, yet, but…”

“What has changed?” Killian wanted to know and Henry found his gaze, looking him into his blue eyes, deeply and earnestly.

“You.” A shiver went through Killian’s spine.

“Me?” Henry swallowed, avoiding Killian’s looks again.

“Yes… it’s- it’s complicated. I just, I need you to see something. Or you won’t believe me.” Killian raised a brow.

“What is that?”

“A book.”

“A book?” Killian’s confusion grew bigger with every second that passed by. “What kind of book?”

“You’ll see when I show you.”

“And why didn’t you bring it with you today, then?” Killian thought he sensed slight inconsistency in Henry’s words. The boy hesitated to answer.

“I can’t show it to my mom, she doesn’t know anything about the book. It’s a secret.” Henry almost whispered the last word. “I couldn’t sneak it out without her noticing it, when I left earlier. It’s pretty big, you know.” Killian nodded again; maybe he was telling the truth after all.

“Would you meet me again?” Henry looked at Killian, hope in his big brown eyes. Killian sighed.

“When?” Henry smiled, his eyes sparkling.

“Tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

“And your mother?” Killian asked.

“She’s with Walsh, tomorrow, she won’t notice a thing.” Killian genuinely didn’t know if it was a good idea to give Henry hope with this, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to break the youngster’s heart.  

“Alright, then,” Killian returned Henry’s smile halfheartedly, but when he saw into Henry’s happy face, most of his concern was gone, already.

“Great!” the boy smiled, almost talking to himself, “Operation Cobra is _on_!”


	4. Chapter 4

Killian's skin touched wet sand as a cool breeze gently stroke his cheek. While he inhaled the fresh air, the back of his tongue was able to taste a hint of something that felt so familiar… so secure… and as his ears heard the waves crushing against the shore, he realized that it was salt that floated threw the air like fairy dust in an enchanted forest. He noticed just then that he was moving, his feet almost flying above the sand. Killian closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the pleasant burn of the salty air. Without the insight of his destination, he trusted his feet with his unknown fate. Then suddenly, he heard a silent hum of a delicate voice. Killian opened his eyes when his feet stopped abruptly to the whispered sound that touched the air. After his eyes had adapted to the bright daylight, which had blinded him for a second, he could see that he had reached a cliff. He heard the waves breaking at the bottom of the crag and a shiver ran down his spine, before he noticed a woman, sitting on the top of the rock. Her hair had a golden shimmer and as he took a closer look, he realized that she was combing it. Killian hesitated for a moment that lasted as long as a deep breath, but his curiosity won over his wariness; he took a single step forward but somehow the mysterious woman heard his silent pace and turned around, slowly. Startled by the unexpected movement, Killian gapped his mouth, yet nothing but a dry exhale escaped it. He waited for her to say a word, to question his presence, to make him leave, but she spoke not.

Instead, she only looked at him, sadness gleaming in the jade shade of her gaze. Such deep sadness, Killian thought… he had never seen greater dolor. But with his next heartbeat, a hint of a memory scratched at the back of his head. His skin shivered as he felt the shadow of snow and the echo of wind. The woman's eyes were still locked on him and just when she slightly opened her mouth, a glimpse of hope on Killian's face, the woman was in chains, suddenly emerged from nowhere. The chains pulled at her and even though Killian's instincts told him to help her, he couldn't; he failed to move an inch. The more he tried, the heavier his feet became which forced him to watch the chains dragging her down. She didn't fight them, though; it seemed as if she had surrendered to her fate, a long time ago… and just before the chains pulled at her for a very last time, two words left her mouth that traveled their way to Killian's ears -

 _"Save me"_.

As soon as she fell off the cliff, Killian was able to move, again. He ran to the edge of the rock, breathlessly, and when he saw her forsaken body being devoured by the dark sea, he felt a terrible wrench in his chest.

 _"There is no hope for a man of the sea, for the sea is sable and relentlessly,"_  his memory quoted from a book.

Killian fell down to his knees, struggling for air, while the shock ran through his bones. He felt the guilt in every fiber of his body. He hadn't been able to save her and he wouldn't forgive himself. Killian's nails dug into the hard ground and a hot salted tear fell from his eyes. As he blinked away the mist that clouded his sight, he saw her blonde hair disappear in the waves, but when Killian gasped just one more time, it was for a different reason. The water had turned to a poisonous green color and with every second that passed, the bilious waves grew bigger and bigger. Killian got back up to his feet and he had nothing more than the ticking of a clock to take a step back, before a giant wave buried its only witness beneath it.

Killian felt the wetness all over his face and when he opened his eyes he saw a pair of big brown eyes staring at him.

"What the bloody hell?" he pushed away Murdock's face out of his sight. The dog seemed pleased with his technique to awaken his friend.

"I think someone needs to take a walk," Killian raised a brow and Murdock responded with a low squeak, covering his nose with his paws. The sad puppy made Killian smile.

"We're going together, mate. We're a team, remember?" Happy with his friend's words, the dog started to bark, swinging his tail in excitement.

"Shhh, you'll wake everybody up," he laughed. "Alright, alright, just let me grab a cup of coffee and allow me the courtesy to dress something suitable, not everyone is you, my friend," he winked at the dog, "Not everyone likes to see a grown man wearing sweatpants."

—

After their walk, Killian decided to ask Mrs. Rooney about her recovery. While they were waiting in front of the door – Killian had gently knocked three times, as usual, but it always took the old lady some time to reach the entrance – Murdock looked at him with sad puppy eyes.

"Oh come on, lad, don't give me a hard time, here. Every sleepover comes to an end," Killian shrugged but the dog didn't look convinced. As soon as the door opened, though, Murdock was all over his mom, happy to be reunited, anyways.

"Aw Murray, easy sweetheart, easy," she petted him before she looked up to Killian wearing a smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones. How do you do, today?"

"I'm very good, thanks ma'am. And how are you? I hope you have recovered, by now?"

"Oh, I do much better, thank you very much for your concern. And I am much obliged to you for taking good care of Murray. Aren't we grateful for that, my sweetheart?" she asked the dog and Murdock barked. The old lady laughed with a ringing voice and Killian smiled.

"It was a pleasure," he nodded, hinting a little bow. "Murray wasn't a burden on me, at all," he winked at him and Mrs. Rooney laughed just once more.

"Have a nice day," Killian nodded, ready to turn around but Mrs. Rooney didn't let him leave.

"Oh no, no. You have to stay, I insist," she said, already turning around and waving with her hand while she was entering the kitchen. Killian smiled, there was no way of escaping Mrs. Rooney, especially after you had done her a favor. He closed the door behind him and went straight to the living room.

"Mr. Jones," he heard her call his name, "Please, take a seat in the library. I'm joining you in any second."

Killian was surprised, it was the first time she had allowed him to enter that room. Whenever Mrs. Rooney had invited him for tea, she had led him into the living room. He wondered what had changed her mind. When Killian opened the heavy door of the unacquainted room, he blinked in awe. The sunrays of the new day shone through the window and made the dusty air sparkle with a curtain-like mist. Hundreds and hundreds of books were lined up in endless rows, the high shelves almost touching the ceiling. There was a single armchair standing next to the window, a small brown table accompanying it. The color of the chair reminded him of a wild field of shamrocks and the texture looked soft and old. There were three books lying on the table, piled up to a little tower, and as Killian came closer to them, he noticed that two of them were books of poetry, the third and upper one, though, was a dictionary of first names. Killian reached for the book almost instantly. While he thought books were something deeply personal and reading someone's literature without their permission was nothing else than violating their privacy, he couldn't think of a reason why reading in a lexicon could be wrong at all, for there wasn't anything more neutral and pragmatic than an encyclopedia. As he skimmed it, he reached the letter "M", and Henry's question echoed in his mind.

_"Murdock! Awesome name, what does it mean?"_

Killian raised a brow, his curiosity growing bigger. His fingers ran over the pages, his eyes searching for the right name. And there it was, Murdock. Killian read out loud:

"Murdock, Irish, modern Gaelic form of the traditional name  _Murchadh_  which has been derived from the Gaelic elements  _muir_ , meaning "sea" and  _cadh_ , meaning "battle"; therefore it can be translated as "warrior of the sea"."

"Pretty, innit?" Mrs. Rooney asked, entering the room. She placed the server with the tea cups on the windowsill and removed the books from the table. "I chose the name for Murray so he would always remind me of home, whenever I'd look at him." Killian smiled.

"Yes, it's rather beautiful."

"Please, take a seat," the old lady suggested, putting the server on the table. Then she left again, returning with a wooden chair from her kitchen. Killian jumped up to help the woman, immediately, placing the chair right next to the table to take a seat there, himself.

"Oh, dear, please, be comfortable, sit in the armchair," Mrs. Rooney insisted.

"No, I'm fine, really," Killian smiled genuinely, "And thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome, dear. It's so nice to have some company. Please, help yourself."

"Thank you," Killian reached for his tea and one of the ginger biscuits he liked so much. "Your library is just magnificent, Mrs. Rooney. It left me in quite a reverence, I have to admit."

"You're too kind. But yes, these books mean everything to me," Murdock barked again and Mrs. Rooney laughed, petting him, "Besides you, that is." The old woman took a moment to sip her tea and Killian noticed a spark in her eyes when she resumed to talk.

"I treasure every single one of them. When I came here, my books were everything I had. I owned only five books, back then, but I didn't get tired of reading them over and over again," she smiled, nostalgia on her lips. Five books, Killian thought, his eyes looking around the room, scanning hundreds of volumes resting in the shelves. This really did feel like a room of treasures.

"It's a great honor to be here," Killian smiled.

"Actually, I had no other choice, the living room is a huge mess," the woman laughed and Killian joined her.

After he had finished his tea, he returned to his apartment, leaving a very sad Murdock behind. Killian checked his watch and sighed. It was almost time to meet up with Henry again and he couldn't help but have an odd feeling about this child. He didn't know why he cared this much, but he couldn't let go of the thought, that there was something special about the youngster. Maybe it was his pity for the boy for he reminded him of his own youth… or perhaps it was the optimistic gleam in his eyes, whenever he talked to him. Killian couldn't tell, but he knew, at the end of the day his curiosity would win, once more. He would meet Henry, there was no escape.

—

When Killian arrived, Henry was waiting already, sitting on the same bench as the day before. When he saw Killian, he waved at him, a smile lighting up his face.

"Hey there," Killian sat down next to the boy.

"Hey! Where's Murdock?" Henry searched the park for the dog but he looked disappointed when he couldn't find him.

"I returned him to his owner. He's at home."

"Oh…" Henry's sad face made Killian smile.

"I figured out the meaning of his name, by the way."

"Cool, you did?" Killian nodded and he noticed how Henry's eyes grew bigger.

"What does it mean?"

"Warrior of the sea."

"Badass! That could be the title of a video game," he chuckled and Killian joined his smile.

"I suppose so."

"Thanks for coming." The boy's face returned serious again.

"No problem, lad. So where's this mysterious book?" Henry grabbed a brown leather bag from under his seat and revealed a big brown book. It looked very old, yet almost unused, Killian realized. The boy gave him the book, wearing an anxious look on his face and when Killian held it in his hands he read the title "Once Upon A Time". He furled his eyebrows.

"Is this a fairy tale book?"

"It's not just  _a_  fairy tale book, it's  _the_  fairy tale book."

"What do you mean?" Henry took a deep breath, he knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"Look, when I first got it, I didn't believe, either. This boy told me all these weird stories about how all of this was real and then he just left but then I met you and-"

"Wait, what does this have to do with me?"

"August said you were the key."

"The key? The key to what?"

"I don't know, that's all he said."

"August?"

"Yeah, the boy who gave me the book." Killian touched his forehead. He didn't know what he was expecting, if he was honest, but he couldn't help but smile about his own naivety. Henry was just a boy, after all, a lonely boy who sought for a friend.

"So, this August, he told you these stories were real?" Henry nodded.

"I know, it sounds crazy and I didn't wanna believe it, too, at first but then…"

"What Henry? What has changed?" Henry swallowed.

"Look, when August told me about this book, he didn't just say that these stories were real, he said that the characters were real, too. He said that they used to live here but now they're gone and he said that one day you'd find me and help us all." Killian stared at the kid's face. Every single one of his sentences was filled with sincerity. He believed in whatever that August kid had told him, so much, that it almost broke Killian's heart.

"Henry," he spoke with a soft voice, "Do you believe that you're a fairy tale character?" Henry turned his face to Killian, his eyes confident.

"No." Killian sighed with relief, the boy wasn't lost in his dreams after all.

"But  _you_  are."

"What?" Killian raised a brow, not able to hide a chuckle, "Henry, you think I'm a character from your book?" Henry nodded again.

"Then, who am I?" The boy smiled now, pleased with Killian's question.

"You're Killian, of course. Killian Jones." Henry's answer left him perplex and confused. It almost felt as if he was hit by an ice cold hand. 'How did he know this?' he asked himself, 'I never told him my last name…'

"I- I know that I'm Killian Jones," he stuttered. "But who am I in your… in your book?"

"You're also known as Captain Hook, but your character's real name's Killian Jones."

"Captain- Captain Hook, huh? Peter Pan's Captain Hook?" Killian looked at his prothesis and a cold shiver ran through his body.

"Exactly," the boy nodded, grinning now. "When I saw you waiting outside my school, I couldn't believe it at first, but then you said your name was Killian and I knew it, August had told me the truth!" Killian cleared his throat.

"Henry, look…"

"I know, it sounds crazy and insane, but please, just take the book with you and… I know you're going to believe it, once you've read it."

"Read it? These are fairy tales, how are they going to change my mind, Henry?"

The boy looked him into his deep blue eyes, wearing an encouraging smile on his lips and an optimistic sheen in his eyes.

"I believe it."

—

It had been exactly 32 minutes since Killian had arrived at home, but he was sitting on his couch, unable to move and skeptically holding the book in his hands, for two minutes less than that. Henry had given him his number and he had told him to call him, once he had finished reading the book. How did it even come this far, Killian wondered. How has he been able to mislead this young boy like this, giving him hope to believe his wishful thinking? Killian sighed, but then he finally opened the brown-covered book.

"The Miller's Daughter," he read out loud, not able to recognize the fairy tale. He skipped a few pages and then read "The Stable Boy".

"Who wrote these fairy tales?" he wondered, still unfamiliar to the stories he found in the book. But as he skimmed the pages, he found another, slightly more familiar tale.

"'Snow Falls'," he read, raising a brow, "Where are the dwarfs?" He shook his head, none of this made sense, he decided.

But just as he wanted to close the book, convinced that all of these tales were nothing but a big joke, he took notice of the picture that was drawn right next to the text page. It showed a beautiful young woman with skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony. Killian gasped and he had to blink a few times before he could trust his own eyes. Despite the hair color, this woman resembled the blonde one from his dreams to such an extent, that it almost scared him. Killian squinted his eyes, but the picture grew more and more familiar, with every second that passed.

'This must be a coincidence,' he figured in his mind but his instincts told him to search for more. And with every page that he skipped, he felt the weirdness in his stomach grow bigger and bigger. But it wasn't until he reached "Neverland", that his heart nearly stopped beating. There he was, wearing a full navy outfit, next to a man that the book referred to as his brother. The picture looked exactly like him, there was not a single doubt about that. But how, how was this possible? Why was there a picture of him in a fairy tale book? Who was this August to own this book in the first place? Killian thought about the few people to whom he ever owed some money, but he had always paid his debts. Why would they want to mess with him now? Or maybe it was a joke from one of his co-workers again? It was possible, but way too elaborate, he figured. But what if… no, Killian shook his head, he hadn't lost his mind, just yet. There was an explanation for this and he would find it out. Yet, there was only one way. Killian grabbed his phone, dialed and waited.

"Hello, hey- yeah hi Larry, it's Killian. Yeah, thanks, I'm good, how are you? Listen- yeah, yeah I know about that, I know… I know, I'm going to take care of it, I promise. Now, listen, Larry, please. You remember the favor you still owe me? Yeah, that. I need your help."


	5. Chapter 5

„Our galaxy is filled with stars, but we shouldn’t forget about our closest one, the sun. Every day we orbit this radiant ball of gas and fire but how many times a day do we really appreciate its daily gifts to us? That said, I hope, the next time you think about stars, it won’t be limited to the beauty of the night sky, but also to the magnificence that is our sun – perhaps during your next sunbathe,” Killian winked at a middle-aged woman who bashfully laughed about the charming joke, along with some other guests. “Thank you, see you next time,” he said, finishing his _Journey to the Stars_ -tour at the museum.

He loved his job more than he loved anything, but today he thanked God that this was his last tour of the day. All he wanted to do was to go home and take a cool shower, hoping that the cold water would banish his thoughts for a little while, at least. In some ways, Killian had grown used to the blonde ghost that had haunted him for the past week; she had become a strange constant in his recent life and seeing her face every night in his dreams almost gave him a feeling of security, in an odd and twisted way. These new thoughts that occupied his mind, though, were from an entire different kind. He hadn’t slept half of the night, reading the book Henry had given him. He had skipped most of the parts, but the story about Peter Pan and the Jones brothers intrigued him the most, a weird feeling of an anxious curiosity accompanying it.

‘Jewel of the Realm’, ‘Dreamshade’, ‘Magic Bean’, ‘The Dark One’ – these words had circled his mind all day long, but he couldn’t find any relation to them; though the ring to those syllables seemed strangely familiar. It felt like having a painful déjà vu where you just know you’ve been there before but you can’t put the pieces together; your mind is searching, desperately, but you simply cannot remember the connection. Killian felt overwhelmed with these new kinds of feelings that he failed to comprehend.

Why would his body tense to the word ‘dagger’? Why would he feel a slight twitch in his chest whenever the story mentioned a woman named ‘Milah’ or a boy named ‘Baelfire’? Why would the inner corner of his eyes start burning whenever the book mentioned a captain with whom he shared the same last name; Liam Jones? He’s never known people with those names before, why would his body react to them? But the most important question was, why was _he_ in the book? It wasn’t just his name that appeared on those pages, it was his very face, as well. Exact drawings of his facial features captured entire pages of this fairy tale book. None of this made sense and it almost drove him mad to think about it any further. The list of questions was endless and his mind didn’t give him a single break. Killian wished for a drink to ease this hazy ache inside of his head, but he had stopped drinking a long time ago. Instead he just hoped that some fresh air would do the magic and help him to clear his mind.

When he made it home, Killian instantly jumped in the shower, welcoming the cool drizzle calming his skin. He felt an instant relief as soon as the water met his body, but Killian feared that the calm state of his mind wouldn’t last for too long. Did he really want this? A life filled with nightmares and paranoia? Sure, on the one hand he wanted to figure it all out, the mystery of what once seemed impossible. But on the other hand, Killian wasn’t very convinced about a good outcome for him, anymore. The last week left him confused and mystified with its events and even though it tickled his curiosity, Killian hadn’t much energy left to deal with possibilities any longer. This book simply drove him mad, bit by bit. The drops fell down his head, their drumming reminding him of a morse code, and he realized that there was only one way to move on.

He turned off the water and wrapped himself into a towel, before he went to his laundry, searching for a special pair of jeans. When he found it, his fingers sought its pockets.

“There you are,” he whispered, looking at a piece of paper, a row of numbers scribbled on it. Killian took his phone, dialing the number. It ringed as he waited.

“Hello?” It was a female voice. Killian hesitated for a second.

“Hi, the name’s Killian Jones, can I speak to Henry, please?” Silence.

“Henry’s not home.”

“That’s too bad, I have to… restore something.” Killian could hear her silent breath against the phone; she was thinking.

“Why don’t you just come over, anyways, it won’t be too long until Henry’s back.”

“Uh, yeah, all right. Yet, I need the address.”

“I’ll text it to you. Don’t be late.” And then she hung up.

Killian blinked. Did this really just happen? He stared at the screen of his phone, as if he was wishing for any confirmation... as if things weren’t complicated and confusing enough already; Killian sighed. He was hoping to see this woman again since that hasty moment he had briefly glimpsed her on the streets and now it had happened, they had talked to each other and- Killian’s thoughts got interrupted by the vibration of his phone. A text message had arrived. He took a deep breath, then opened it.

“483 _Columbus Avenue, apartment 311._ ”

Killian raised his head, his eyes looking out to the wide sky; he had found her.

\--

He felt his pulse echo in his ears as his right hand gently knocked at the door of apartment 311. He took a deep breath, his head bent down slightly, his fingers clenching and flexing in a rhythmic way. A nervous haze reached his stomach while he heard the footsteps coming closer. Killian had waited for this moment, even though he had tried not to, his subconsciousness had done it anyways. He had hoped to see her one more time and now it was finally happening; he would find out who this doppelganger really was; the woman who resembled the ghost of his dreams.

Killian took another breath and the door opened. When he raised his head, doubt and hope both resting in his eyes, his lashes started to flutter as soon as his iris tried to focus on the woman in the doorway. It took the fraction of a second to adjust his eyes to the light that shone from behind her, to really see her; just one beat of his heart, in which the dark shadow in front of him transformed into a person with smooth waves of silky blonde hair, a soft line of a delicate nose and the intensity of vividly jade-colored eyes; it was her, there was not a single doubt. Killian’s heart skipped a beat as he smiled.

“Killian Jones, right?” the woman asked and Killian’s smile turned into a crooked one.

“Indeed. It’s a pleasure,” he offered his hand but the woman only raised her eyebrow. Killian took another breath, remembering the reason why he had really come here.

“Is Henry back, by now?”

“Not yet,” she answered briefly.

The book was resting in Killian’s bag, but he couldn’t just hand it to Henry’s mother. The boy looked unhappy with the thought of her knowing about it and Killian didn’t want to upset his young friend. Instead, his hand wandered to his bag to reveal a football that resembled the one that Henry had brought to the park, the other day. Killian had thought of this alibi, in case that Henry hadn’t arrived at home yet.

“I came to return this here to your son. I believe he forgot it when we met at the park.”

“Yes, I know about that,” she said, her eyes still looking suspicious. “Henry told me.” Killian wondered what exactly he had told her that made her look at him this warily.

They remained in their poses for what felt like eternity, her trying to read the stranger’s face as if she was searching for something specific in there. But then, just as he was about to abandon the thought, she opened the door a little more, her thumb pointing over her shoulder.

“Would you like to wait inside? I’m sure Henry’s about to come home, any second.” Killian’s mouth opened in surprise, his eyes blinking.

“Yes, thank you, why not.” His feet stepped into the apartment a little hesitantly but when he passed her she offered him her hand, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“I’m Emma, by the way. Emma Swan.” Killian smiled again.

“Pleased to meet you,“ he shook her hand. The second they touched, though, he felt a weird shiver run up his arm, making the tiny hairs raise one inch at the time. He shook his head, as if he was trying to shake the thoughts off, as he entered an open-plan kitchen, the living area behind it. Killian didn’t know where to sit, whether at the table or on one of the three couches, so he just remained where he was standing until Emma caught up to him.

“Please, take a seat,” she gestured to the couches. Killian chose the red one, Emma sat down on the beige one right next to it. His eyes looked around for a second, curious what to find. The room was very open, decorated tastefully and modern. There were some paintings on the walls and something that looked like gigantic handcuffs. The muscles in his right arm twitched for a second, but Killian ignored it.

“So,” she raised her brow again, “How did you two meet? My _son_ and you.” Oh, Killian thought, now he understood. This wasn’t a nice invitation, this was a cross examination.

“Well,“ he spoke with a steady voice, his eyes on the coffee table, “I work at the Museum of Natural History and sometimes I spend my lunch time at the park or I take a walk around the block.” When he looked up, he met Emma’s gaze, her arms crossed over her chest.

“One day, I was sitting on a bench close to his school, I suppose, and he came up to me, confident to share one of your Thursday-Specials with me.” The corner of his mouth rose a bit and she mirrored it for a second before her eyes started searching again.

“And then you met up at the park?”

“That we did.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why would a grown man meet up with a teenager on a Saturday afternoon? Don’t you have friends? Or hobbies?” That was straightforward, Killian thought, he wasn’t expecting this. He swallowed, not quite sure how to answer this question without getting Henry into trouble.

“I- He wanted to meet Murdock, so I-”

“Who’s Murdock?” she asked, her voice hard as steel.

“That’s my neighbor’s dog.”

“Oh,” she leaned back now, “So that’s your thing, huh? Baiting the kids with a cute little puppy.”

“Come again?” Killian furrowed his forehead; he couldn’t quite believe what this woman was accusing him of.

“Oh come on! Don’t act all innocent on me, Henry might buy this game that you’re playing, but it’s not working on me! I’m not a kid!”

“I’m not sure I’m following, Miss Swan.“

“Oh, you sure as hell are! You’re one of these perverts who woo little kids with candy and puppies or whatever and the next thing you know as a parent is that they find your kid somewhere on the ground of the lake. But your time’s up, man, I’m calling the police!” Emma got up, her hand reaching for the phone. But before she could even dial, Killian was next to her, holding her arm with a firm grip. His brows were still furrowed in irritation but his voice didn’t shake a bit when he talked to her in a calm voice.

“What are you going to tell them, Emma? That your son talked to a stranger in the park? We both know, that’s not going to be enough.” Emma’s eyes fluttered for a moment, realizing that the man was right. It wasn’t enough.

“I know it must be hard to raise a child in this world and I cherish that. There is enough evil out there to haunt any parent’s nightly dreams. But I promise you,” he stepped a little bit closer, now, almost whispering, his eyes as sincere as possible, “I’m not one of them. No harm will come to your boy, not through me.”

Emma’s mouth gapped slightly, her eyebrows both raised. There was something in the velvet tone of his voice, in the sweet scent of his skin that felt so familiar, so secure… he was telling her the truth, she was absolutely sure; she had seen it in the earnest depth of his azure eyes. Emma blinked away the amazement and took a deep breath.

Then she finally released herself from Killian’s gentle grip, putting the phone back to its place before she cleared her throat, offering him a seat again. He wasn’t sure if it was right to stay, but somehow he couldn’t make himself leave, yet. After they had sat there in silence for a few minutes, Emma broke the quiet with an apology.

“I’m sorry... I guess I just freaked out. I mean, a stranger who comes out of nowhere and starts meeting up with your 13 year-old son, it’s just…” Killian smiled compassionately.

“One can get the wrong impression, I understand completely. We’re living in New York City, after all.” Emma returned the smile.

“Yeah, I guess so…” She bent forward to cup her face with her hands, before she ran them through her golden hair.

“He changed so much,” she shook her head, “And I couldn’t figure out what had happened, why he was acting like this. At first I thought it was just puberty, you know, the kid’s growing up and all that, but then he started to get really distant and… I don’t know, reserved I guess. We always had this great relationship and then, all of a sudden, I’m the worst mother in the world. He stopped talking to me, he refused to spend time with me. The only thing I’ve caught him doing is sitting in his room to read. He doesn’t even wanna tell me what book he’s into.” Killian pursed his lips.

“It was as if he was living in another world, like, in a dream. I just started to get really worried… And then, one day he comes home and everything’s changed. He started to tell me about you and how great you were.” Killian couldn’t help himself but smile a little, bashful about Henry’s admiration.

“And, in my mind, I just freaked out, you know. I mean… what did he see in you that made him his old self again?” Emma met his gaze, but she didn’t find any answers there. Killian thought about a good response, but he couldn’t find one. Instead, he simply shrugged, genuine compassion on his face.

“Boys at his age tend to have a changing temper, I suppose.” Emma nodded, and Killian noticed a shade of resignation in her eyes. With that sad look upon her face, she resembled the woman of his dreams more than ever. But she didn’t just look sad, he figured, she looked kind of exhausted, like an abandoned wolf mother who tried to defend her pup from all the dangers of the woods, all by herself. Security and love was all too rare in her life, he could read it in her face.

Killian looked across the room, an idea coming to his mind. He wasn’t sure how she was going to react to this, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking her, anyways.

“Would you mind, if I used your kitchen for a second?”

“I… guess not?” Emma’s confusion was written all over her face, what was this all about, now? For a moment she questioned her superpower but Killian remained mysterious. He jumped up to go right into the kitchen, confident that this was a good idea. It took him a little longer than usual, since he had to find all the ingredients first, but when he was done, he was quite pleased with himself. He returned to the couches, placing two cups of hot cocoa on the coffee table. Emma’s mouth fell open, yet again.

“Hot cocoa?”

“Never fails,” Killian smiled, the sense of sweet victory on his lips. Emma’s stunned mouth transformed into a huge smile before she took a sip.

“Mhm,” the back of her hand touched her lips, “How did you know?” Killian shook his head.

“What do you mean?”

„Cinnamon.“

„Oh… Not your flavor?“

“No, that’s _totally_ my flavor, but that’s the thing, how did you know?“ Killian shrugged, he honestly didn’t have a clue. He wasn’t even aware of the fact that he had added it to the drink.

“I don’t know, it was a lucky guess, I supposed. The cinnamon pot was just standing there and I must’ve added it without further reflection. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked-“

“No, no, it’s totally fine,” she smiled, “I love it.” Killian smiled back. For a moment it felt like time stood completely still. His dreams, his questions, his fears; none of it mattered. For a moment, it was just them, in the here and now. Their bodies remained motionless; stuck somewhere in the gap between their heart beats. Other than in his dreams, this was the first time he had met her, yet it felt as if their bodies had encountered before. There was this strange connection between them, an understanding that didn’t require words. In this fleeting moment of the weightlessness between the strokes of a clock, both of their souls could feel it, an oddly familiar spark they exchanged. For just a blink of an eye, the fibers of their bodies were tethered to one another, as if dozens of invisible ropes pulled them closer, their hooks sunken in the other one’s flesh. It was as if every single one of their cells longed for their opposite’s presence, ached for their proximity.

Their gazes were locked on each other and Killian couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes, her pure and emerald eyes. They reflected the light in a way that made her iris sparkle in all the colors of the spring. Like a field of shamrocks covering the hills, like the highest forests and the widest hills; their green was so vivid, so rich - it reminded him of home…

 

Killian felt like awakening yet from another dream, when the sound of his phone startled him. Emma took a sip of her cocoa, watching him curiously.

He checked the screen, it was Larry. The nervousness rose inside of him, he didn’t expect him to call this quickly. While Killian hesitated to answer the call, overwhelmed by the possibilities that awaited him, he felt Emma’s persistent gaze on him. He took a deep breath before he finally answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hi Larry, what happened? Did you,” Killian turned his head a little away from Emma, “manage it?”

“Yeah, I found him,” Killian swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his chest. “But I need you to come here, I can’t leave.”

“O-okay, I’ll be there in a second. Are you in the archives?”

“Where the hell else would I be? Yeah, I’m in the archives. Bring something to eat.” Killian heard the busy signal, Larry had hung up on him. Usually he would be annoyed by that kind of rudeness, but he was too nervous to care.

“Everything okay?” Emma asked him and Killian blinked a few times before he answered.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just,” he got up, “got to go, they need me at work.”

“This late?” Emma didn’t buy it and he couldn’t blame her; he’s never been the best liar before.

“Yeah, it’s an archive emergency.”

“Hm,” Emma raised a brow, but she didn’t ask any further. Killian took his bag, quickly sliding the book under the couch without Emma noticing it. When he almost reached the door, he turned around, looking into Emma’s jade eyes for a very last time.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerity in it. Emma was surprised about his gratitude.

“For what?”

“For believing me.” She smiled.

“Actually, I should thank _you_ … not only for the best hot cocoa I had in a while,” Killian blushed a little, scratching his ear while he smiled, his eyes directed to the ground, “but also for bringing my son back.” When he looked up again, surprise was written all over his face, yet Emma’s eyes looked kind and genuine.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it makes him happy and that’s all that matters.” Killian remembered a similar sentence that had left Henry’s mouth, not so long ago.

_“He makes her happy. That’s what matters.”_

Like mother like son, he thought.

“Maybe he just needs some male idol to look up to,” she smiled, teasing him. He returned the smile.

 “Yeah, maybe. What about your boyfriend, though? Don’t they get along?“ Emma blinked, not expecting this question.

“Walsh? Yeah- No- well, they get along pretty well, as far as I’m concerned, but…” She looked at him with the softness of early sun rays kissing the dewdrops of the night, “I can see why he would like you.” Killian’s lips turned into a crooked smile, his heart beating hard against his chest.

“It’s not hard to like him in return.” He felt the blood rush into his cheeks but before he could say anything else, he decided that he should leave now.

He left the apartment, his heart feeling heavy and wistful, but right before he turned around the corner, he heard her call his name. He looked over his shoulder, seeing her standing in the doorway.

“Maybe I can return the favor, sometime? With some coffee?” Killian liked the idea.

“Settled,” he smiled and then he disappeared from her sight.

\--

Killian entered the archives of the museum, Larry sitting at his desk in almost complete darkness. There was only one desk lamp right above his head that enlightened the room a little with its fluorescence. Killian placed the pizza right next to his colleague, without even greeting him.

“So, what do you got?“ he asked. Larry side-eyed him for a second before he took a peek into the pizza box.

“Hm, salami?”

„Complaints?“ Killian leaned against the desk, his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.  

“It’s the fifth time this week.”

“Well, then I suggest you take a walk outside and buy some food, yourself, mate.” Larry snorted, as if Killian made a bad joke about something he’d never do.

“I’m waiting,” he started to get impatient, “why did you call me?” Larry took a huge bite from a slice of pizza before he started talking.

“So, I hacked myself into the system of this kid’s school, what was his name?”

“Henry.”

“Yeah, him. Anyways, after that it was easy as pie, didn’t take much time to find,“ he took another bite, “that other kid, he was still in the class register, they never update those kinda things.”

“And?“

“Looks like the kid’s an orphan,” Killian felt an invisible punch in the gut. “He had to switch his foster care system, he’s moved to Philly.”

“Did you find out the address?“ Larry looked offended.  

"What do you think?“ Killian rolled his eyes but Larry didn’t notice, searching for a piece of paper on his desk.

“Here,” his colleague handed him the address. He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the piece of paper. Then he pushed himself away from the desk, collecting his bag and ready to leave. Without even turning his head around, he said,

“Thanks, mate, I’d say I owe you one, but, well I don’t.” Even though he didn’t look back, he knew that Larry flipped his finger. Wearing a grin on his face, he turned on his heels, looking around the corner.

“And I’m taking the day off, tomorrow.” Killian coughed, acting very badly, “I’m so very sick, you’re my witness.” He heard Larry mumbling something, but at this point, he couldn’t care less about him. As he took the stairs and exited the museum, all he could think of was this boy; August. He was the only one who seemed to have any answers, at all and he was one step closer to find him. Killian would get his answers, no matter what. That he was certain of.


	6. Chapter 6

The sunrays shone through the cloudy sky as Killian left his apartment in the morning. He hadn’t slept a wink, last night, his mind occupied with all different kinds of question marks. But there was hope, somewhere in his chest, naive, irrational hope, that this kid, this young boy would have any answers to the mystery that had become his life. Just as he was about to open the door to his car, someone called him from behind. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose slowly to the sound of the voice; it was her. He turned around, surprise on his face when he found Emma standing next to him.

“Hey,” she smiled, trying to hide that she caught her breath from walking quickly.

“’Morning,” he returned the smile. “Out, so early, already?”

“Yeah, I actually, I wanted to take a walk.” Killian slightly raised a brow, sensing a lie, but he remained silent. Instead he just nodded, his eyes looking kind and soft.

“And you, going to work?”

“No- ye- no. No, actually, no,” he started stuttering, not sure what tell her. He could hardly reveal the truth but he didn’t want to lie, either. Emma bowed her head a little before he went on.

“I-I am… I am working outdoors, today. For… research.” Emma raised her brows, nodding approvingly, yet her eyes wore the same shade of suspicion, as he had witnessed it the day before.

“I see. Do you… have to go now?” she asked, a sweet hue coloring her voice. Killian blinked.

“I- uh, yeah, unfortunately, yeah.”

“Hm, that’s too bad. Now that I ran into you, I thought I could return the favor from yesterday?” Emma glanced at him from beneath her long lashes, making Killian’s heart skip a beat. He swallowed, his mind blanking out for a moment.

“Well, I _might_ have a minute or two,” he smirked and Emma smiled back.

“That’s a start.”

“Where do you want to go, then?” Killian closed the door to his car.

“How about Charlie’s?”

“Excellent choice, they have the best coffee around here.”

“I know, right?”

\--

“Turned out the guy was married and had three kids, which didn’t stop him from skipping bail, obviously. I caught him, eventually, though.”

“Impressive work,” Killian smiled and Emma returned it.

“Thank you. I do my best, I guess. What about you? You’re English, right?” Killian nodded, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Half-Irish, actually. But yes, I grew up in London, though my mom and I spent most of our summers in Ireland at my Grandmother’s cottage. She loved dogs and had a huge yard where I used to play with them.”

“That must’ve been fun.” Killian’s eyes dropped, a nostalgic smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I loved it.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

“College, I suppose,” he shrugged but Emma raised a brow.

“Don’t you have any colleges over there? I heard there were some pretty decent ones, just a couple,” she teased him which made both of them smile.

“Yeah, I might have heard of them,” he winked at her, before he shook his head to continue.

“I don’t know, I guess college was just an excuse to escape. I wanted to see the world, you know. Cross the sea, travel.”

“But you ended up here, instead.”

“Oh, I love New York. And I love my job. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, except for an actual journey to the stars, perhaps,” he joked and Emma couldn’t stop herself from joining his chuckle.

“My original plan was to travel the country for a year before I came back to start my studies at the NYU. But once I arrived here, the city just didn’t let go of me.” Killian’s eyes went to the distance, his brows slightly furrowed.

“It almost felt as if an invisible force held me here, magically preventing me to leave town. Whenever I packed my things, my heart turned heavy and I simply couldn’t. It’s hard to describe, but it felt as if I was letting somebody down, someone close… to my heart.” He blinked, as if he was awakening from a daydream and when he returned his gaze to Emma, he saw genuine compassion on her face. Killian chuckled.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away, I guess.” Emma smiled, her silent lips telling him, that it was okay.

“Well, the truth is that, even though I wanted to leave so many times, I still haven’t regretted staying. I’m actually very glad I’m still here,” he gave her a smile. Emma’s eyes fluttered as she returned it.

“Curious story,” she took another sip from her drink before she inhaled very deeply.

“Killian?” He raised his brow, his tongue collecting the coffee drops from his lips.

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded.

“Of course, go ahead.”

“Why did you really meet up with Henry? At the park, I mean?” Killian wasn’t surprised that Emma still couldn’t shake her suspicions. He was such a bad liar, if he was her, he wouldn’t believe his lies, either. But what was he going to do now? He had promised Henry…

“Well, I told you, before. We threw some balls.”

“I found the book.” Killian swallowed hard regretting that he had left the book somewhere under the couch without having the chance to tell Henry were it was.

“The Book?” he played innocent.

“Yes, the book _you_ have slid under my couch, yesterday. The book my son was reading for the past two weeks, over and over again.” He raised his brows, stunned by Emma’s observation skills. Then she bent over a little, her eyes reflecting the morning sun.

“Look, Killian, I know you’re a good guy. And I really want to trust you, but I can tell when people are lying to me, that’s kinda my profession. So I suggest you start telling me the truth or,”

Killian narrowed his eyes a little bit, his gaze locked on hers.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll call the police.” Emma almost whispered the last part but Killian could tell she didn’t want to threaten him. All she wanted to do was to make sure her son was safe. She wanted to know the truth behind all the mystery and if Killian only could, he would tell her that he wanted to solve it all just as much as she did. He couldn’t give her real answers, though, all he could do was to break his loyalty to his little friend and tell his mother everything he knew about him. He took a deep breath.

“Henry wanted to meet me, because he wanted to give me that book.” Emma’s brows furrowed; this wasn’t enough.

“Why?”

“He thinks… he believes I’m a fairy tale character from his book. He thinks it’s real.” He could see the surprise on her face, her trying to figure out whether or not to believe him.

“Seriously? What, so, just you, or?”

“Allegedly all the stories are true. But he didn’t tell me more.”

“Who does he think you are?” _Killian Jones._

“Captain Hook,” he shrugged, while pointing at his prosthesis. It felt strange saying it out loud and Emma’s face mirrored that feeling.

She inhaled deeply, thinking while she stared into her coffee cup. A couple of minutes passed in silence, before she broke it.

 “The kid’s really imaginative, I guess. He’s always been into stories and heroes and stuff. But speaking to strangers, now, believing that they’re part of a different world?” She looked at him, a thousand questions reflecting in her eyes, “It’s normal to freak out about that, right? I mean, I should, who wouldn’t? What kinda mother would I be, if I wouldn’t worry about my kid living in a fantasy world, right?” Killian smiled compassionately, touching her hand lightly.

“Emma, you’re a great mother. And yes, everyone would do the same.” Emma smiled back, a hint of relief and gratitude in her eyes.

“But don’t be too hard on yourself, love; and neither on the boy. He _believes_ it.”

“Just because you believe something, doesn’t make it true,” she replied.

“He’s a child. Children tend to believe in things that aren’t necessarily true, but that doesn’t make them any less real to them. Believing in these stories gives him hope, don’t take that away from him,” he squeezed her hand, “Just leave him be, he’ll be fine.”

“You really think so?” Emma’s eyes grew bigger as a watery shine started to glaze the green mosaic of her iris.

“I do,” he said with a deep sincerity echoing in his velvet voice. Emma smiled.

“What?” he wondered.

“I’ve only known you for two days and it’s already been the second time that you’ve helped me out. Thank you.” There it was again, Killian thought, the strange connection he felt whenever she was close enough. It was as if they were two magnets that couldn’t stop attracting each other. For a moment Killian felt, as if he knew this woman better than he had known anyone else, ever before. It seemed so easy to read her mind, to unravel her words, to translate her gaze… everything about her seemed so awfully familiar and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t only because of his dreams. It was just then, that Killian realized he was staring at her pink lips for maybe a little too long. His gaze dropped as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks and his finger went to his ear, scratching it bashfully.

“That’s alright.” Killian was glad Emma felt this way, he had hoped they would get along, somehow. When he returned his eyes to her, she was still smiling.

“Apparently Henry isn’t the only one you’re giving hope,” she said with a soft voice, making Killian chuckle sheepishly.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said, smirking with blushed cheeks.

Both of them just remained in their seats for a moment, a comfortable silence in the air.

“Maybe you can take him with you… next time?”

“I’m sure he’d love that.” Killian felt his heart beat against his chest, overjoyed with the fact that she wanted to see him again! He still wasn’t sure what it was that they both seemed to share, but he wasn’t ready to let go of it, just yet.

Then he checked his watch and twitch ran across his chest; he had to leave. But it wouldn’t be for too long.

\--

“I’m so sorry, Jona, but I really do feel awful,” he coughed, “I’m afraid I must rest, all day, so I can make it, tomorrow,” he coughed again, hoping it sounded more convincing this way.

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry, again. Alright, see you tomorrow, then! Bye.”

Killian hated to lie, but he simply couldn’t have waited with this until the weekend. He had to find August as soon as possible so he could put an end to all of these questions in his mind, so he hoped. A big part of him still couldn’t believe he was actually driving all the way down to Philadelphia to talk to a teenage boy, wishing that he could solve all of his current problems. But his guts couldn’t care less about it. There was something inside of him that sensed that maybe… maybe this child did have any answers, indeed. And if there was just the tiniest bit of hope inside of him, didn’t he owe it to himself to find out if, perhaps, Henry was right? At the end of the day, there was no logical explanation to any of this, but if you thought about it, how rational could you be if the subject of debate was in fact your dream? Killian knew a lot about the galaxy and the stars, but he also knew that there was so much mystery out there, in the great infinity of the universe, that it would be foolish to dismiss a potential  truth rather too quickly without proofing it wrong, first. Somehow this book was connected to his subconsciousness and Killian wanted to know why.

As he drove inside of the parking lot, he could feel the tension rise inside of him. He had no troubles finding the address that Larry had given him; he’s always been good with navigating his way. But now that he had reached his destination, it challenged him to actually leave his car and look for the boy. Killian took a very deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. All he saw was darkness, at first, but then little bright dots appeared like stars sprinkled all over the black canvas that was the inner surface of his eyelids. His eyeballs tried to bring the stars into a constellation, to find a pattern in their random appearance, but he couldn’t. Then he gathered all his courage and left his car.

When he reached the foster home, carefully stepping inside, two little girls ran past him, joyfully playing tag. Killian smiled.

“May I help you?” a female voice asked and Killian turned around to find a middle-aged woman across from him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he cleared his throat, “My name’s Killian Jones. Please excuse my unheralded visit but I was looking for someone.”

“And who’s that?” she raised an eyebrow.

“His name is August Booth, ma’am.” The woman crossed her arms, not sure if the stranger was trustworthy.

“I got his new address just recently and I wanted to pay him a visit.”

“May I ask, how you know him?”

“Well, I’m an… old friend… from New York,” he smiled but the woman’s eyebrows narrowed even more.

“I’m, I’m actually,” what was he? Killian realized just then that he didn’t think this through, properly, and in his mind he was kicking himself for being careless like that.

“I’m Henry’s uncle, August’s friend Henry, from New York. Yeah, they went to school together, you know, and, Henry couldn’t stop wondering what happened to August so I thought,” he shrugged, “I come here to say hi from his old lad.”

“Henry? Yeah August has talked about Henry a few times but… aren’t you English?” Bloody hell, Killian cursed in his head.

“Uh, yes, ma’am, that I am, but Henry, his father, he’s a real American. My sister came here just for him,” he winked, “and the rest followed. Like me.” Oh God, Killian wished the ground would swallowed him up, he was so bad at this. The woman still side-eyed him suspiciously but then she called August’s name. Killian raised his eyebrows, surprised by this turn.

A few seconds later a ginger teenage boy entered the room.

“August,” the woman talked to him without dropping her gaze from Killian, “Do you know this man, honey?” August looked at Killian, straight-faced. He nodded.

“And do you know his name?” He nodded again.

“That’s Mr. Jones, ma’am. Mr. Killian Jones.” Killian felt the relief in every fiber of his body before a weird shiver ran down his spine; the boy knew him… how was this possible? The woman checked him out, one last time, before she turned her head to August.

“Do you want to talk to Mr. Jones? He says he’s Henry’s uncle?” She almost whispered the second part of the sentence, curiously waiting for August’s answer.

“Yes, that’s right,” the boy scratched his nose, “We used to play in his garden, every Sunday afternoon.” The woman smiled, slightly and Killian thought he could see a hint of relief on her face.

“Is that so? Now, I’m sure you have lots to talk about, then,” she returned her gaze to Killian.

“Why don’t you show Mr. Jones _our_ garden while I make some tea?”

August turned around without saying a word and it took Killian a second to realize that he was supposed to follow him. They went through a dark hall before they entered the kitchen where they found the backdoor to the garden. August sat down on a little bench and Killian joined him. Neither of them talked for what felt like hours, before Killian braced himself to break it.

“You’re good at lying,” he winked at the boy, who didn’t seem to notice it.

“I promised my papa not to do it anymore, but he’s gone now.” Killian blinked as he realized he was talking to an actual orphan; a little kid who had probably been through God knows what and who now created a new and safe fantasy world of his own, spreading rumors to other children who believed his natural lies. Killian smiled at his own naivity; he wasn’t an exception, he had almost fallen for them, too.

“Henry has found you, then?” The kid’s gaze found his.

“Yeah… yeah that he did, indeed.”

“Did he give you the book?”

“Yes, about that…”

“Did you read it?”

“Yes, I did, but-“

“Good. Now you can start you mission, then.”

“Wait, what mission?”

“To make the savior believe, again.”

“August, what are you talking about?”

 “Emma,” he said and Killian’s iris tightened. “She’s the savior and she has to believe, again. You are the only one who can make her.” Killian took a deep breath, a mixture of pity and compassion on his face.

“Lad, you’re not making any sense,” he said with a soft voice, “Emma is Henry’s mother, she’s not a savior and she’s not part of any fairy tale book, contrary to your believes, my boy.” August’s eyes looked into Killian’s, deeply and earnestly.

“So, you’re not remembering.”

“What?”

“The curse, or anything before that.”

“August, what curse?”

“I thought you might remember when you read the book. One day it found its way back to me, the same way as it happened before, ten years ago.” Killian shook his head, the boy was completely stuck in his fantasy world.

“You mean, when you were a toddler?” August ignored the comment and he kept talking instead, mostly to himself, though.

“I thought it was a sign. I had found Henry and Emma, the book had found me. There was only one more key missing.”

“And what was that?” He asked with a low voice before the child faced him again.

“You.” ‘ _That again,_ ’ Killian thought, smiling.

“How would I be the missing piece in your puzzle, mate? I’m just a regular lad from New York.”

“Because it is your destiny.” Killian furrowed his brows, there was something about this kid that gave him the creeps.

“You were born to find the savior, to make her believe.”

“Was I?” This got better and better, he thought. “Now, August, can you answer me one simple question? Where do you know me from?”

“I’ve met you before.”

“Where?”

“In Storybrooke.”

“Where the bloody hell is Storybrooke?” Killian bit his lip, as he realized that he shouldn’t curse in front of a child.

“It’s in Maine. That’s where we lived before the town disappeared.”

“What? Disap- what? I’ve never been to Maine, before.”

“Yes, you were.” Killian was speechless; the boy obviously had an answer to every question, but none of them seemed to make any sense at all.

“Alright, my boy,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, “Let’s get back to Henry, then, shall we? Why did you give him the book?”

“When they brought me here, I thought Henry was my last chance. I gave him the book a week before I left, hoping he would find you someday. I wished upon the North Star, every night, since then. I wished that you would find Emma and you’d save us all.” Killian felt goose bumps all over his body.

 _‘Go find me Killian. Save me.’_ The words echoed in his ears.

“How long has it been since you came here, lad?” he asked slowly.

“It’s been 8 days.” Killian caught his breath. 8 days – that’s when he first saw Emma’s face in his dreams. But this could not be… Killian got up from the bench, kneeling in front of the boy to be able to really look into his eyes. Then he asked him with a shaking voice:

“August, where is your father?”

“In the Enchanted Forest.”

“And why aren’t you with him there?”

“Because I wasn’t affected by the first curse.”

“The first curse?”

“About thirty years ago the Evil Queen, Regina, she cursed the entire kingdom and brought almost every member of the Enchanted Forest to the World without Magic.” Killian remembered the story from the fairy tale book.

“You mean, here?” August nodded.

“At first I thought only Emma, Henry and I were able to escape the curse but Regina’s mother, Cora managed to protect you and a few others from it, too; so neither of us were brought here by the original curse. That’s why it didn’t take us back when Regina had to break it.”

“So, I am part of that enchanted world, too?” Killian asked and the boy nodded, convinced that it was the truth.

“Then why is it that you can remember all of this, and I can’t?” August’s gaze dropped.

“Back in Storybrooke, well, I used to play outdoors a lot and sometimes I sneaked into Mr. Gold’s shop. He’s the Dark One, he has magic, you know.” Killian nodded as if he understood what the kid was talking about.

“I liked to watch him when he used it. One day he made a potion and bottled it in tiny little flasks. They were blue and blue’s my favorite color.” The young one went quiet for a moment, so Killian took his hand to encourage him to continue his story.

“I stole some of them, two bottles actually. I put them into my pockets and ran away. Sometime later my papa brought me to the town line, we were supposed to say our goodbyes to Emma and Henry.” Killian felt a twich in his stomach.

“Everybody thought we would all return to the Enchanted Forest, together… but we didn’t. The town disappeared and I was left alone, somewhere in the woods. I managed to find a road and I waited for someone to find me, but no one crossed my path. I was all by myself with no memories and no direction. I was just so…” August swallowed hard, little tears in his eyes.

“Scared?” Killian finished his sentence and August nodded again. “What happened then?” he asked.

“I got thirsty but I couldn’t find any water. Then I found the bottles in my pocket and I drank one of the potions. It was a memory potion, you know.”

“That brought your memories back?”

“Hm-hm.”

“What about the second bottle?” The boy looked around, checking his environment for any eavesdroppers.

“I hid it under my bed.”

“Oh, so you still have it, then?” August nodded sincerely.

“And this memory potion, it can return all your memories?”

“Yes. It brought mine back.”

Killian inhaled deeply. He didn’t know what to think of this child’s story but one thing he knew for certain; for August _all of this_ was real and Killian genuinely didn’t know what to do now. He felt a deep responsibility for this young boy and he couldn’t just tell him that he didn’t believe him. He was obviously traumatized and Killian felt awfully bad for him.

“And here’s our tea,” he heard the woman’s voice when she joined them in the garden.

“Oh, thank you very much, Mrs. …”

„It’s Pfleger, Mrs. Pfleger.”

„Thank you, Mrs. Pfleger, that’s very kind. But I’m afraid I have to leave.”

“Already?” she said, sounding rather formal than seriously concerned.

Killian looked at August who seemed saddened by his plans and he felt a stroke in his chest.

“Unfortunately, yes. I promised my sister, _Emma_ , I’d be back early,” he smiled at the boy and he returned it, hope glancing in his eyes.

“But I’m very grateful for your kindness, Mrs. Pfleger, for letting me into your home. I really do appreciate it.” They went back through the hall to the front door of the house.

“You’re welcome. I hope you found what you were looking for.” Killian returned his head to face the woman, not sure what she was referring to.

“I think… I did.”

“Have a safe travel.” The woman’s voice seemed strangely formal, cold almost and Killian decided that August wasn’t the only resident of this home who gave him an odd vibe.

“Thanks…” He opened the door of his car, as he heard August’s voice calling him.

“Wait,” he cried. Killian closed the door again as the youngster ran closer to him.

“Can you give this to Henry?” August handed him a little teddy bear. Killian smiled.

“Of course.”

“And tell him that I miss him.”

“That I will, my boy.”

Then his little hand gestured Killian to come closer and Killian bent forward to hear what he had to say.

“Please bring back my papa,” he whispered and it felt as if an invisible hand punched Killian in his stomach. Then the boy reached for his ear, whispering:

“Save the savior. Save us all.”


	7. Chapter 7

„Is that all, sir?“ the man behind the counter asked.

Killian squinted at the booze bottles behind the man but then he cleared his throat, shaking his head.

“No, just the coke, please.”

“That’s 1.35.”

Killian paid his soda and left the gas station. When he arrived at his car he sat down wearily, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his right hand. He left the door open for he hoped for a fresh breeze to cool the air a little bit. Killian inhaled deeply, his eyes opening slowly, unfocused and tired. He took a sip of his coke, his thoughts still running wild. What exhausted him the most, he realized, was that he couldn’t shut the voices down, for just a second. He didn’t have a peaceful day and a resting night in over two weeks and the more time passed, the more desperate he felt. He had _hoped_ that the ghosts would leave him alone once he returned the book, but it only got worse. Now that he had met Emma, everything had changed, everything became a little more real. Now it weren’t only his nightmares that haunted him; what was far worse than that was this uncertainty, or no, he corrected himself in his mind, it was the… _possibility_ of truth. It scared him that he even gave it a chance, that he considered August’s words as possible…

Killian’s eyes went to the passenger seat as the reflection of something caught his attention. August’s teddy bear looked at him, the black round eyes shining in the sun. Killian smiled. When he grabbed the toy his smile faded, his rationality taking over again.

‘He’s just a kid,’ he realized, ‘He created his own reality.’ Killian pitied the boy; he had felt a similarly deep connection to August as he had felt to Henry and it genuinely pained him that he had to leave him at the foster home. There was nothing he could do for him. Killian pictured the boy’s face when he drove off, sadness in his big eyes. His words echoed in his ears –

_“Save the savior. Save us all.”_

Killian felt a pinch in his chest, his fingers convulsing around the fluffy toy. Then, suddenly his puzzled eyes went down to face the bear. A long-desired breeze finally stroke his forehead as his brows furrowed. Something felt oddly strange about this teddy. His fingers cautiously squeezed it for a second time and there, it happened again. Killian could feel it, there was no doubt. Something hard was hidden inside of the bear. It could be a stone or a coin roll or… Killian’s iris widened as his heart skipped a beat. He tried to rip off the teddy bear’s head, but it was a hard task for a one-handed man. He considered using his teeth but he figured it would be too messy and he wasn’t enjoying the thought of having actual fluff inside of his mouth. Then his eyes caught his key.

‘That’s it,’ he thought, a grin upon his face. He stuck the toy between his legs, his prosthesis holding it in position while his other hand used the keys to unseam the stitches that connected the head to the body. It took a little effort but in the end Killian managed to behead the bear. He sighed deeply, part of him being proud that he did this all by himself, mostly though, because he was intrigued to find out what was inside of the bear. The fingers of his right hand slowly went to the neck of the toy, pushing away the white cotton to reveal the secret. Killian could see something brown but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He pulled at it a little and quickly he figured it was cork. Killian felt his heart against his chest. He took another deep breath, his fingers now deeper inside of the teddy bear. He felt a cool and smooth surface and the more he fumbled the more certain he became about the mystery beneath his fingertips. Finally he grabbed the object, first pinching it with his index finger and his thumb and then carefully pulling it out of the fluffy torso to expose it at last. Killian’s mouth gapped. He was holding a tiny blue-colored bottle… was this… but it couldn’t be… but why would August give him a teddy bear that had a tiny bottle inside of it? This couldn’t be a coincidence, the boy did this on purpose. He _wanted_ Killian to find this bottle. No, Killian was sure, this was – this had to be –

“The memory potion.”

-.-.-.-

It was a long drive home. A drive filled with _it-can’t-bes_ and _it-must-bes_ , with _whys_ and _why-nots_ , with _hows_ and _I-don’t-knows_ , with _yeses_ and with _nos_. When he finally arrived in New York City and parked his car in front of his apartment, Killian didn’t know whether he was coming or he was going. An endless amount of questions circled his mind, tangling up and making it impossible for him to think straight. Questions and questions and questions, but no answers. There were only possibilities and to even think about them overwhelmed him like a giant wave deluging the lonely shore.

Nothing made sense anymore. Killian’s entire world felt upside down and he didn’t know what to do.

He felt like losing his mind, step by step. And about what? A bottle. A tiny little bottle that a stranger gave him. A child. Why was he even freaking out about this? It was nothing but a game, a prank by a kid. He had to calm down. He had to find back again.

Killian closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. At first he heard nothing. Then the usual New York City background noise started to blend into his awareness again. He took another deep breath and there was still nothing but the sound of the city. Killian couldn’t believe it; he shut down the voices. But just as a smile started to form upon his lips, he saw Emma’s face in front of his inner eye; her blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight, her eyes gentle and kind. Then they started to change, looking at him sadly, desperately. As the sun turned into the moon and Emma’s hair appeared silver in the dull light of the night, he started to hear Henry’s voice, like an echo in the back of his mind.

_“All of this is real.”_

Then August started to speak.

_“It is your destiny.”_

Henry again.

_“You are the key...the k e y…”_

August.

_“Find the savior, make her believe.”_

Henry.

_“You’re going to believe it.”_

August.

“ _One more key…”_

Henry.

 _“But then I met_ y o u.. _.”_

Both.

 _“You’re_ Killian _.“_

_“Save the savior.”_

_“The key.”_

_“Killian Jones.”_

_“Save us all.”_

_“… Killian…”_

_“…Only y o u...”_

_“… Killian…”_

_“… K i l l i a n …”_

_“… K i l l i a n …”_

His eyes opened in bewilderment, his iris contracted, his mouth dry. Killian wasn’t able to think about his actions, all he did was function in that very moment. He mechanically opened the door of his car, closed it behind him and entered the building. He took the stairs rather than using the elevator and when he reached his floor he went straight to his apartment. But before he even reached it, he paused when passed by Mrs. Rooney’s home. Killian stood still for a moment, still following his intuition. Then he turned around, knocking at her door.

He heard Murdock barking and for a second he thought he could smell salt somewhere in the air. Mrs. Rooney opened the door, greeting him with a smile.

“Oh what a pleasant surprise.”

“’Evening, Mrs. Rooney.”

“How do you do, Mr. Jones.” Killian blinked.

“I’m fine… thanks…”

“You’re just right for the five o’clock tea, my dear, come, come,” her waving hand invited him inside.

“I didn’t want to bother you,”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, just take a seat…” Killian turned left, where the library was,

“… in the living room, I’ll join you in a second.” Bloody hell, he thought, this wasn’t exactly fortunate. Sighing deeply, he took a step towards the living room where Murdock waited for him. He could hear Mrs. Rooney preparing the tea in the kitchen and he knew it would take her some time. Killian bit his lip, balancing his reasons in his mind. He decided that he had to take the risk. He turned on his heels, sneaking to the library on tiptoes. When he reached the door, Murdock was by his side, waving with his tail. Killian put a finger on his lips, shushing at him. The dog barked, telling his friend that he understood. Killian shook his head, laughing quietly. Then he opened the door to the library. As he went inside, his eyes started to search. There was only one book he wanted to find. And there it was, just as before, lying on the top of several other books that were all pilled up on the little brown table. Killian almost ran to it, grabbing the book he was seeking. Then he searched for the letter “ _K_ ” and when he found his own name, he felt like drowning in the cold, wide sea.

“Killian, Irish, anglicized version of the name Cillian. _Cill_ meaning "church" and _Ian_ being the Gaelic version of "John" creates the composition of “Church of John.” Saint John is known as "the disciple whom Jesus loved". He was especially beloved of the Savior for his sacrificial love.”

_The. Savior._

Killian had to read the last part over and over again. He felt like fainting, his lungs unable to work.

His name… was this why August had told him he was the key? That only _he_ could make… the savior believe? That it was his… _destiny_? But how did August know about this? About his name? He called Emma the savior, did this mean that him, Killian, was…

When he heard the clinking of tea cups, Killian shut the book and sneaked out of the library. Standing in the hallway now, his hand reached for the knob of the front door when his eyes met with Mrs. Rooney’s.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have to leave.”

“But what about tea, dear?”

“Another time, I promise.”

“But…”

Killian could hear Murdock’s barking as he ran down the stairs. He felt bad for leaving Mrs. Rooney this abruptly, but there was only one thing he could think about right now:

_What if?_

What if, all of this was true. What if, this, his life, was nothing but a lie. What if, he really _had_ to save Emma.

He didn’t know what this savior-talk was all about, but there was only one way to find out, he figured.

When he reached his car, he opened the door and sat down in a rush. He grabbed the blue little bottle and stared at it, determination in his eyes. What was the worst that could happen, anyways, he thought. If this didn’t kill the kid, it wasn’t going to kill him either. And if this was nothing but a big joke, then at least he would know it for definite, after he had drank the potion.

No, Killian had enough of this game. He _had_ to be certain. He _had_ to be sure.

He removed the cork from the bottle, swallowing hard. Then he moved the little flask to his mouth, the cool glass touching his skin, as August’s voice appeared in his head again.

_“Save the savior.”_

Killian blinked. He stared into the distance for a while before he removed the bottle from his lips. Killian remembered his first dream… Emma begging him to find her... to _save_ her.

What if, he thought, all of this _was_ true. And what if he drank the only potion that existed? What if he remembered… how would he be able to make Emma remember, as well? Could he really risk this? He couldn’t save Emma in his nightmares, but maybe… maybe he could save her in real life. Even the possibility of this made him feel stronger. He had to try. He owed it to Henry and he owed it to August. But first and foremost, he owed it to Emma.

\--

Three little knocks. Emma almost missed it while she was preparing dinner for Henry, Walsh and herself. It had been a while since he had joined them for supper.

‘Maybe he’s early,’ she thought, walking to the entrance of the apartment. When she opened the door, Killian was standing in front of her. His smile turned into an apologetic one when he noticed the surprise on her face.

“Killian…”

“Hello, Emma,” he paused, “Please excuse my unannounced visit,”

“Visit?” Emma rose a brow but Killian only smiled some more, scratching his ear.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take much of your time… but, could we talk?” Emma blinked, not quite sure what Walsh would say about Killian’s impromptu visit but then she decided that she was curious about what he had to tell her.

“Sure,” she said, “Come in.” 

Killian walked inside of the kitchen, taking a seat at one of the chairs around the big wooden table. Emma joined him, sitting right across from him.

“So, what is it that you want to tell me?” she asked. Killian gapped his mouth, but nothing came out. Emma’s eager look didn’t help to find his voice but then he finally started speaking.

“You remember the book that Henry gave me?” Emma nodded.

“Well, there’s a little detail I didn’t tell you about it.” She raised an eyebrow now, not sure where this was leading to.

“Henry got the book as a present. A boy named August has given it to him.”

“And?” Emma grew impatient.

“It was him who told Henry that the stories were real. It was also him who told him that apparently I was the key to save you… us all.” Emma shook her head, bafflement all over her face.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know-I mean, I didn’t know…” he sighed, “When we met this morning I didn’t know any further. In fact, when you asked me to have coffee with you, I was already about to leave. To find him.”

“Because my son told you he believed in fairy tales? Seriously?” Killian sighed again. This wasn’t going to be easy, he figured.

“No, it was more than that… I… I’ve been seeing you in my dreams.” Emma moved her head a little backwards, not sure what to think of this.

“Don’t- don’t take this the wrong way. It was very strange, it started to happen before I even knew you. You appeared in my dreams and begged me to find you.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s super creepy. And secondly, do you really expect me to believe this?”

“I… don’t know, Emma. I just, I’m struggling with this for over two weeks now and I simply need you to know, that’s all.” Killian looked at her with great sincerity and Emma could see that little spark inside of his deep blue eyes, again, the same kind of gleam that she had seen the last time he was in her apartment. Somehow she knew he was genuine and even though he sounded like a crazy person, she wanted to know more about what he had to tell. She nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“Anyways, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Henry had told me and about my dreams,” Emma crossed her arms across her chest, “and of course, none of it made any sense, I couldn’t believe it, either. But then I found my own name and several paintings of my face in the book.”

“What, seriously?” Killian nodded. Emma had to stop herself from laughing out loud when she noticed the offended look staring back at her.

“Check it for yourself. Look it up,” he challenged her. Emma raised the corner of her lips, accepting the challenge. She stood up from her chair, walking to what Killian assumed was her bedroom and returning with the big brown book in her hands. Then she handed it to Killian, sitting down across from him again.

“Show me,” she grinned. Killian raised a brow, returning the grin. Then he opened the book, quickly finding the story about the Jones brothers. Without saying a word, he turned the book around sliding it across the table.

Emma looked down, still smiling and convinced that he was bluffing but then her smile slowly started to fade, her mouth gapping and her eyes widening.

“No way,” she whispered, Killian smiling triumphantly. But then she returned her gaze to Killian, uncertainty in it.

“Is this some kinda trick? A sick game you plotted to sneak into our lives?”

“What?” his voice broke, “No, Emma, no, I’m certainly not.” She read his face again and she started to suspect that her superpower got weaker as she grew older. But then she decided she believed him, anyways. When Emma looked at him, it felt as if she knew him; it felt as if he was an old friend that she didn’t see in a very long time and it freaked her out to feel this way about a person she only knew for two days. But she also knew the kind of people that couldn’t be trusted, she knew them just all too well and Killian wasn’t one of them. Her gut told her that she shouldn’t worry about him yet she couldn’t silence her mind that was still suspicious about every single word that he said. He wasn’t a liar, though, she was certain of that.

“Then how the hell is this possible?” she asked. Killian shrugged.

“That’s what I still couldn’t figure out.”

“Then tell me what you did figure out.”

“Well, to make it short, I found August and I talked to him.”

“Where?”

“He’s living in Philadelphia, in a foster home.” Emma cringed.

“He’s an orphan?” Killian nodded.

“That he is. He seemed very… reserved but he’s a tough lad.” Emma bit her lip in empathy.

“What did he tell you?” Killian swallowed, Emma’s eyes locked on his lips.

“He told me… well, he said that his father was stuck in another land and apparently all of us were citizens of a town called Storybrooke but we lost our memories about it and you were some sort of savior and I needed to make you remember again so you could save us all.” Emma could see relief on Killian’s face when he finished his sentence in one quick breath. She blinked once and then she blinked again before she burst out laughing.

“Are you serious?” she giggled, wiping away a tear with the tip of her finger. Killian couldn’t help but join her laugh.

“I know. I know how this all sounds,” he smiled at her for a while before he turned serious again, his eyes looking in the depths of her jade eyes.

“It’s not like I believed it right away, either.”

“Wait, so you wanna tell me, you _do_ believe this stuff?” Killian swallowed… did he?

“Well, it’s an ‘innocent till proven guilty’ situation, I suppose. See, there’re just too many things, it can’t be all coincidence. I can’t eliminate the possibilities anymore, not until I’ve found some proofs, first.” Emma scrutinized him, her brows deeply furrowed.

“And how will you get that proof?” Killian moved his hand to his pocket, revealing a tiny blue bottle. He gently put it on the table, exactly in the middle between him and her.

“What’s that?”

“August gave it to me. He calls it a memory potion, he says that’s how he remembered everything that has happened to us. Allegedly that’s why he remembers and we don’t.”

“So what, does he have a memory potion manufactory?”

“No, he… he had two bottles, he said he stole it from… nevermind. He drank one, now there’s only one more left.” Emma smiled.

“And you think drinking this… potion will bring this all to proof?”

“I certainly hope so, yes,” Killian shrugged. “The worst that could happen is that nothing happens. And that’d be proof, too; that it was nothing but a lie.”

“The worst that could happen is that this,” she pointed at the bottle, “is actual poison.”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But it’s not.” Emma raised both of her eyebrows, not sure if she was rather shocked or stunned by this man.

“That’s a lot of faith you have in a kid you barely know.”

“Did you ever meet an orphan, Emma?” Emma blinked, not expecting this question.

“I- actually yes. Why?”

“Then you’ll know about the lost look in their eyes. They all share it, the look you get when you've been left alone.” Yes, Emma knew this look. She wore it in her own eyes.

“What about it?” she tried to play it cool.

“August’s eyes… I’ve met many orphans in my life, but I haven’t seen a lad with greater dolor written upon his face. He asked me to bring back his father, it certainly broke my heart. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try the potion.”

“Then be my guest, go ahead,” Emma pushed the bottle towards him, using two of her fingers. Killian shook his head.

“All this talk and now you chicken out?” she winked at him.

“No, it’s not that. You… you have to do it.”

“What? No, oh no, buddy, I sure as hell do not have to do this. You do it, or you don’t. Doesn’t matter to me,” she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Lass, it’s the only way.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. There’s only one potion. Just think about it. Consider the what-ifs. What _if_ this is true. What _if_ we all need your help and we waste this thing on me? I- _we_ can’t take that risk.”

“I’m not gonna do it.” Killian sighed deeply.

“Alright. What about this. I try, a single drop. If it won’t kill me, or,” he grinned, “turn me into a hideous frog, you can at least consider to drink it. What do you say, love?” Emma rolled her eyes.

“God, fine. Just do it then.” Killian grabbed the bottle and opened it carefully. Then he dipped his pinky into the potion and moved it to his mouth to place the drop on his tongue. When he swallowed, it felt as if time stood still, their synchronized hearts skipping a beat. Then, finally Killian inhaled deeply, smiling victoriously.

“Still alive,” he grinned but Emma only rolled her eyes again. She gazed at him from under her thick lashes, doubt still glistering in it.

“If I drink this…,” she said, her voice shaking a little, “and the things you told me are true… how do I know if I even want to remember? Maybe it’s good the way it is, I mean I have a good life, I’m happy. I don’t know if I’m ready to give this all up.”

“Maybe you just have to hope.”

“For what?”

“That everything will turn alright. You’ll never know what the future brings, but if you have the chance to bring back what’s lost from your past, you owe it to yourself to at least try. You just have to trust your gut to do the right thing.”

“All of this because a kid said so…” she looked at the bottle, biting her lip. Killian smiled compassionately.

“Sometimes children know more than grown-ups ever could. Someone once told me, growing up means forgetting. I think he was right with that. When we get older we lose the ability to believe, to give things a chance,” Killian took her hand now, his eyes soft and kind.

“Maybe we just _have_ to remember.” He gently squeezed her hand and she let him. There it was again, the connection she felt whenever he came closer to her. She had noticed it several times before and it freaked her out how natural it felt to be near him. But she couldn’t deny that it gave her a sense of security and… strength. When Killian was around, Emma felt like anything was possible.

“Take a leap of faith, love. Give it a go.”

Emma’s eyes fluttered before she released herself from his touch, swallowing hard. Then she took the bottle with shaky hands, Killian’s eyes following her moves eagerly. When she brought the bottle to her lips, she closed her eyes tightly, her nervous heart almost crushing her ribcage. She took a deep last breath and then she drank it, all in one go.

It felt like a giant wave breaking inside of her; a white light spreading from her stomach to every single cell of her body. Then she saw images; like frames from a movie they appeared in front of her inner eye, one after the other. Dozens and dozens of frames. She saw Neverland and her parents, she saw Pan and the Lost Boys, she saw Henry and the town line, she saw the curse appearing and the good-byes. And then she saw…

“Hook,” she gasped. Killian’s eyes widened.

‘Bloody Hell,’ he thought. ‘It was true. It was all true.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to [Meg](http://keepcalmwearetimeless.tumblr.com/post/57483330954/killian-late-night-thought-on-whats-in-a-name) who first decoded the meaning of Killian's name in her blog post. Hope you don't mind me quoting you :)


	8. Chapter 8

Killian caught his breath, his head spinning like a carousel. August had told the truth; his life was a lie. But what now? How could he keep on living a life that wasn’t real; or was it? Lie or not, at the end of the day _this_ was his life, how could he let go of it, even _if_ he could? Everything that he went through… or thought that he went through had a significance; in the end it was his past that made him the man he was today. _This_ was his reality. But now that he knew that there was a whole different world waiting for him, how could he keep on living this one? Killian furrowed his brows, his eyes looking downwards. It wasn’t all a lie… Mrs. Rooney was real and Murdock, too. His job was real and he loved it. His coffee-addiction was real and his love for jazz music. Emma was real… But what about his memories? Which of them were real? His childhood, his family… his father… Killian swallowed hard; all of a sudden he wanted to remember. He wanted to remember everything. There was so much in his daily life that he didn’t understand. And he had never allowed himself to actually think about those things, until now. Like this weird and very demanding ache for alcohol inside of him whenever he was sad or worried. The need was so strong and maddening that one day he decided to never touch a drink ever again. Or this indescribable feeling around his wrist whenever he looked at his prosthesis; it almost felt like cold air cutting it off, over and over again, radiant streaks of phantom pain following it. Or his dreams… his vivid and all-consuming nightmares… and the strange feeling of familiarity to their protagonist… Killian’s gaze wandered to Emma, who was still looking at him in complete shock. He wondered, if she felt relieved to filter the lies from the truths. Right now, he couldn’t tell.

“Mom, what’s going on? Did Walsh come early?” Henry opened his door, curious about all of the noise. When Emma turned her head around towards him, her fluttering eyes suddenly lit up, a bright smile appearing on her face. She almost ran to her son, hugging him as if she hadn’t seen him in years.

“Henry,” she sighed, silent tears running down her hot cheeks.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Emma cupped his face with her trembling hands, smiling at him earnestly.

“Nothing. Everything’s great.”

“Really? You seem confused.” Emma simply nodded, her relieved smile never fading away. Then she moved her lips to his forehead to kiss him wholeheartedly. Killian couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his heart. Just as he formed a smile upon his lips and his eyes started to softly glisten with compassion, her mouth touched Henry’s skin. Almost instantly a white light emerged from the spot where her pink lips met her son’s head, emanating from Henry’s forehead and spreading out like a moving wall of energy. Like a drop in the ocean it moved through the apartment, the wave growing bigger and bigger. When it passed Killian, it hit him like a pane of glass; hard and unexpected. The wave had so much strength, Killian had trouble to keep his balance. His eyes widened in surprise, not sure of what he had just witnessed. Then Henry blinked a few times, searching for his mother’s eyes.

“Mom?” he almost cried, “Mom!” Emma gasped, realizing what just happened. She repeatedly hugged Henry, the boy closing his eyes tightly when he hugged her back. Killian didn’t understand the boy’s emotional burst of joy but he figured it must have something to do with the white light that Emma somehow created. It made him smile nevertheless.

Suddenly, the sound of the door bell startled all three of them. Emma already loosened her embrace when Killian waved with his good hand, silently telling her that it was alright, that he would take care of this. Emma welcomed his gesture for she wasn’t ready yet to let go of her son, anyways, so she only smiled at him gratefully, allowing him to answer the door for her. When Killian reached and opened the entrance, a stranger’s face looked back at him. He was holding a bouquet of roses in his one and a bottle of red wine in his other hand. When the stranger realized that it wasn’t Emma who answered the door, his soft eyes turned into confused ones.

“Ex-,“ he checked the door number, “cuse me, where’s Emma? And who are you?” Killian scratched his ear, smiling nervously. Just when he was about to open his mouth to explain himself, he heard Emma’s voice calling from behind.

“Walsh, just come in!” The man raised one of his brows, not sure what to think of this whole situation. Then he stepped inside, passing Killian and avoiding eye contact.

“Hey guys,” he carefully looked around the apartment, “What’s going on? Everything alright?” Emma smiled at him, though Killian could tell she felt a little uncomfortable.

“Yeah, everything’s good. How are you?” She kissed him briefly. Watching them, Killian’s eyes instantly went down, feeling a weird twitch in his stomach. 

“I’m good…,” Walsh still raised his brow but when Emma smiled at him, he returned it.

“Here, these are for you,” he gave her the bouquet and she smelled the roses.

“Mhmm, thank you,” she smiled, “By the way, this is Killian.” Killian stepped closer, his right fingers touching the back of his head before he offered Walsh his hand.

“Hello,” he said, nodding slightly. Walsh shook his hand, his eyes scrutinizing him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Walsh,” he answered. Then he turned around to Emma.

“Is your friend joining us for dinner?” he smiled at his girlfriend.

“Uh, well-“ Emma stuttered before Killian cut her off.

“No, I was about to leave, actually,” he looked over to Henry who looked confused and overwhelmed. “See you soon, lad.”

Henry forced himself to smile. “Sure,” he nodded.

Then Killian turned his head to Emma, sincere melancholia in his eyes.

“Good bye, Emma.” Emma’s lashes fluttered, her mouth slightly gapped. Images from a year ago appeared in front of her eye, making this feel like a déjà vu. Now that she had gained back her memories everything felt that much more confusing.

“Bye,” she whispered. Killian turned around, his head bowed down and heading for the entrance.

Just when his hand touched the knob of the door he heard Henry’s voice calling him from behind.

“Hook, wait!” A cold shiver ran down his spine. What did he just call him?

 _Hook_.

Right. If all of this was really true, then he was a pirate indeed. No, not just a pirate.

Captain Hook.

Killian swallowed hard before he felt another twitch in his stomach. Then, suddenly there was an image, bright and clear. It was only a flicker in the moment, hitting his memory like a lightning bolt. He watched a moment frozen in time, himself and Emma standing somewhere in the midst of a road. He was dressed in black leather, while Emma wore a red jacket. They both shared a wistful look of great sadness, neither of them wanting to leave the other one. Behind them there was a town sign, “STORYBROOKE” written on it. When the image disappeared again, it felt like being choked by an invisible hand. Killian blinked, his lungs desperate for air.

“Here,” Henry ran closer to him, offering him something. It was the book. Killian heard Walsh asking Emma what was going on, but he didn’t look over to them.

“You need it more than we do. I know how it feels, not being able to remember,” Henry looked him into his eyes, earnest and kind.

“So you do remember, then?” Killian asked, his eyes switching over to Walsh and Emma. Walsh’s brows furrowed while Emma’s eyes were filled with concern.

“Yes, I do,” Henry smiled brightly. Killian sighed, smiling a crooked smile. Despite feeling overwhelmed with all that had happened, he still couldn’t help but feel such great relief for the boy.

“But how? I thought only the potion was able to make you,” he glanced over Henry’s shoulder again, whispering now, “remember.”

“True love’s kiss,” Henry still smiled, “It’s white magic. It can break any curse.” Killian’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’ when Walsh finally interrupted them.

“Can somebody explain me what’s going on please?” He turned to Emma.

“What is this talk about magic? And why did your son just call this man “Hook”? I thought his name was Killian?” Emma sighed, her hands almost touching his chest.

“Calm down okay? I know this must be all very confusing for you…”

“You think?”

Killian raised his brow, he didn’t like where this was going.

“I know… it’s just… it’s complicated, alright.”

“Emma, can you just tell me what’s going on or should I better eat dinner somewhere else, tonight?”

“You wouldn’t believe me, if I told you!”

“Try me.”

Emma took a deep breath, battling a war inside of her head. This past year was more than real for her and so were the feelings she had for this man but how could she tell him that she was actually part of a fairy tale world and that she had gained back all of her lost memories only seconds before he had arrived here? This didn’t just sound crazy, this _was_ crazy, Emma thought. But then she gathered all of her courage, hoping that real love would understand… she sighed again.

“Walsh… this isn’t easy to explain, okay, why don’t we just sit down, first?”

“I don’t want to sit down. Just tell me.”

“Okay, alright then,” Emma felt the slight rising of annoyance appearing in her chest.

“I… we,” she pointed at Henry and Killian, “The truth is, we are part of… well, we’re all…”

Walsh crossed his arms across of his chest.

“Yes, I’m waiting.”

“Well… look, we’re all… okay so, you could say, I guess, that we are…”

“Oh for God’s sake, Emma, how hard is it to say fairy tale characters?”

Emma’s eyes widened. What did he just say?

“W-what?”

“Yes, I know. You’re Emma Swan, the precious and seemingly remembering daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and this is,” he pointed at Killian, “Mr. Captain Hook, who finally found you, even though I gave my best to keep your lives apart for so long. But it looks like,” he smiled sarcastically, shaking his head a little, “true love always finds each other.”

Both, Emma and Killian felt like they were punched in their guts. They couldn’t believe what was happening.

“How... how do you know all of this?” Emma stuttered, her forehead furrowed in deep confusion.

“Oh Emma,” he smiled again, briefly stroking her cheek with the back his index finger. “Did you really think you could escape your destiny? Of course I know. You are and forever will be the savior and we couldn’t just let you walk back to save the day, could we?” Emma shook her head, not understanding.

“We?” Walsh laughed.

“Yes, darling, we. But don’t you worry about that, you won’t have much time left to think about it, anyways.” Killian stepped closer now.

“Don’t you dare touching her,” he growled but Walsh only laughed, not even looking at him.

“It’s a shame, you know. I really liked you,” he said before he turned into a giant winged monkey. Emma jumped back, horrified by the transformation. Then the monkey turned around and crushed through the window, flying away and leaving Emma speechless and shocked on the floor. Killian ran to her, immediately, asking her if she was doing alright. Henry followed him, his eyes scared and bewildered.

“MOM, MOM ARE YOU OKAY??” Emma hugged him tightly, kissing his hair with trembling lips.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s all good now, it’s all good.”

“Are you sure?” Killian asked and Emma just nodded.

“Yes, I’m alright,” she caught her breath, “But what the hell just happened?” Killian shrugged.

“I have not a single clue, love. I hope whatever it was, it won’t come back. I can assure you that I’m no longer in doubt of any of your stories,” he gently poked Henry with his elbow, making their joined laughter sound like a melody of relief and joy.

“Come,” he offered Emma his hand to help her get up again. “Let’s get you on the couch. And then I’m going to make us all a fine cup of cocoa, what do you think of that?” he winked at her.

“Yes!!” Henry cheered and Emma laughed along with Killian. She took his hand, letting him help her up, but he pulled her closer so quickly, that she almost ended up crushing into him. She was able to feel his sweet breath striking her skin, their heads almost touching. Now that she had gained her memories back everything seemed just that much more confusing. She couldn’t deny that there was a spark between them, not only now but even back when she had to leave Storybrooke a year ago. Neverland had bonded them together and Emma remembered the ache that she had felt when she had to say good bye to him. And now she had experienced this new side of him, this kind and gentle person that was so different to his past self. This wasn’t Hook, this was Killian. Maybe, she thought, this is what he used to be, back when he wasn’t a pirate yet. Emma blinked, realizing that she was staring at his lips for far too long. When she stepped back a little, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling shyly. Killian returned the smile. But then it hit her again; Walsh and everything he had said to her. Despite everything that she had lost during her memory loss, this relationship, or better her feelings for Walsh, they had been real; and so were these feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. He had used her… but for what? Emma felt anger pounding inside of her. How could she have been so wrong about him? Again? Was this the price of being the savior? Not getting a happy ending, at all? When she raised her head again, she found graciousness and admiration in the azure reflections of Killian’s eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt a streak of hope running across her chest.

Then they heard a weird high-pitched shrieking outside of the building that made them both look out of the broken window, synchronously. There was a woman flying on a broom, coming closer with every millisecond that passed away. When she raised her hand to form a green ball of light in the palm of her hand, Killian didn’t think twice before he threw himself in front of the woman he loved. As if in slow motion he moved through the air, shielding Emma with every inch of his body. And then he got hit, a green ray of light striking him right in the middle of his chest. Killian fell down like a big rock hitting the hard ground. Emma rushed to him, immediately, Henry by her side.

“HOOK?” she called, shaking him but his eyes kept being closed. “KILLIAN! KILLIAN!”

“Is he breathing?” Henry asked, his voice shaking.

Emma moved her ear to his chest, relief all over her face when she heard his heart beating against his ribcage.

“He is,” she sighed, sitting down next to him. “He is alive.” Emma cupped her face with her hands, rubbing the shock out of her eyes.

“What happened?” Henry asked again, his face still perplex.

“I have no idea,” Emma raised her brows, her eyes distant. This could have been her, she realized. If he hadn’t…

“I think he’s sleeping,” Henry poked Killian gently. Emma tightened her eyes. Sleeping?

“A sleeping curse?” she whispered.

“Mom, you’re amazing! That’s it! We have to awake him!”

“And how are we going to do _that_?” Emma raised her brow, skepticism all over her face.

“True love’s kiss,” Henry nodded, convinced that he had found the solution.

“Kid, how in the world are we supposed to find his true love? We’re in freaking New York City. I don’t even know where he lives, let alone who he loves.” Henry sighed, realizing that his mom was right.

The boy looked over to Killian’s face. After a few seconds he finally broke the silence.

“Do you think he’s in pain?”

Emma turned around her head, her face confused. She hadn’t given it a thought, if she was honest to herself.

“I don’t know, but I hope not.”

“Look at his eyes, they’re moving,” Henry came closer to the body.

“Of course they are, he’s sleeping.” Emma turned her head away but Henry didn’t let go.

“But look,” he pointed at Killian’s right hand. “He’s making a fist!” Emma’s eyes widened as she realized that her son was right. Killian was making a fist.

Henry moved even closer to his friend, taking his hand and placing it in his lap. “He’s bleeding,” the boy figured out. Now Emma moved closer too.

“He is,” she whispered.

“Mom, we have to do something! Maybe he’s in great pain, we have to wake him up!” Henry’s voice sounded panicked and Emma, too, felt fear crawling up inside of her.

“I don’t know what to do!” she almost screamed.

“You have to try!” Henry begged her.

“What?”

“TRUE LOVE’S KISS!” Henry’s scream almost felt like the lash of a whip, exposing every single fear she ever had since the day she had set a food on this damned island called Neverland.

“True love’s kiss?” she whispered. “Me?”

“Yes!” Henry insisted, “Just try!”

“But what if it won’t work… what do we do then?”

“JUST TRY MOM!”

Emma swallowed hard, the what-ifs circling her head like a spinning top. What if it won’t work, she repeated to herself. There was a part of her that secretly hoped that she could have found her own happy ending with this man… but what if it won’t work? And what if it does? Would it mean that he was her true love after all? Killian Jones? Captain Hook? Really? Emma didn’t know what to feel but then she remembered how he threw himself in front of her, rescuing her without even thinking about it twice and Emma knew, she had to try it. She owed him.

Emma slowly moved closer to him, her entire body trembling. She felt how her heart started to beat faster, the tension rising inside of her stomach. When she almost reached his lips, she stopped for a second, taking a final deep breath.

‘You can do it,’ she said to herself, closing her watery eyes tightly and pressing her lips against his. Not even a second passed by before a white light emerged, spreading out like a thousand sunrays at once. Then another green light appeared, leaving Killian’s body step by step.

When Emma parted her lips from his, her hot cheeks were flooded with tears. Killian slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion.

“Swan?” he asked, “What happened?” Killian moved his fingers to his lips, remembering the green light beam.

Emma smiled, cupping his cheek with one of her hands.

“You came back,” she whispered, moving in to kiss him one more time. When they finished the kiss, Emma furrowed her brows slightly.

“Wait, did you just call me Swan?”

“Aye,” he grinned and Emma gasped with joy. Henry joined them immediately.

“You remember!”

“That I do, my boy,” he ran his hand through Henry’s hair before he realized he had blood on it.

“Oh, my apologies,” he pouted.

“It’s alright, I need a shower anyways,” Henry laughed and the other ones joined him.

When Henry got up to enter the bathroom, Killian finally got up to sit on one of Emma’s couches, her never leaving his side.

“Do you need something?” she asked, concern in her eyes, but Killian only shook his head.

“No, love. Just come and sit,” he pointed to the space next to him and Emma sat down. Killian looked her into her eyes, deeply and earnestly and only a single question left his mouth.

“What happened?” Emma took a deep breath, not sure what to answer.

“Well, Regina had to break the curse and we all lost our memories and-“

“No, Swan, after that. What happened after the green light hit me?”

“Well…,” Emma avoided the eye contact, “You fell asleep. The green light was a sleeping curse.”

“A sleeping curse?” Killian repeated, raising his brow.

“Yes.”

He opened his lips slightly, his tongue playing with the corner of his mouth.

“So… how did you awake me then?”

Emma was sure he already knew the answer to that question, but she couldn’t show him that she was afraid of this word. She cleared her throat.

“True- true love’s kiss,” she said, without looking him in the eye. Killian smirked.

“So that’s why I had the pleasure of receiving another kiss right when I awoke, I suppose.” Emma hit him slightly with the back of her hand, not able to hide her smile.

A few seconds passed by in silence before Emma found the courage to speak again.

“What now?” she asked him, her eyes wide and confused. Killian wished he had any answers. He sighed.

“Perhaps so rum?” he joked but Emma didn’t laugh.

“I honestly don’t know, love. The monkey said something about how you couldn’t just walk back to save the day. Perhaps Storybrooke’s back and they’re waiting for you?” Emma pursed her lips, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for even more fairy tale drama right at this second. Killian noticed her worries, so he put his arm around her, embracing Emma with a gentle hug.

“We can leave tomorrow, I suppose. Let’s just have this day in peace, or what’s left of it.” Killian felt Emma’s chuckle against his chest. He smiled.

“You know,” she whispered, “For a second I really thought you were dead.” Killian swallowed.

“I sure am not,” he bowed his head, trying to sound cheerful. Emma raised her head from his chest, meeting his gaze from under her long lashes.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her voice shaking a little. “Why did you risk your life for me?”

Killian blinked, sighing deeply.

“Wasn’t your wake-up-kiss answer enough?” he whispered. Emma’s eyes fluttered as she realized what he meant to say.

“But you couldn’t remember. You didn’t know,” she said, unable to fully accept his answer. He smiled.

“Emma,” he said, looking into her jade eyes as if he was searching for the northern star and her pupils were the night sky.

“There are certain things you don’t have to know. You plainly feel them, nothing more or less.” He took her hand now, gently playing with her fingers.

“Even though I had only known you for two days, I felt the special connection we had.” A couple of seconds passed by until he smiled again, looking at Emma, tenderly.

“Finitely I was able to save you.” Emma furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean?”

“In my dreams, you always begged me to save you and I always failed. Not this time, though.”

 “Maybe because I didn’t beg,” she smirked cheekily and Killian gently poked the side of her ribs. He took another deep breath before he went on.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter how far away you are, I will always find you. You’re my destiny, Swan.”

Emma smiled before she kissed him again, fondly and honestly, breaking down her walls, brick by brick.

 


	9. Epilogue

Years after that beanstalk, years after Neverland and New York, years after the time travel and our first time on the open sea, here we are again. Salty air brushing my blushed cheeks as I watch the sun stand still above the light blue stroke that is the horizon. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with oxygen, feeling the moment with every bit of my being. I close my eyes slowly as I remember who I am.

I am the savior. I bring the happy endings. I am the result of true love; of magic.

But every magic has its price and the price I have to pay in exchange for my life is to give up on my own happy ending. I needed some time to come to terms with this; to feel at ease with the thought. To stop feeling angry and jealous. Day by day I accepted my fate and I realized, maybe I don't _need_ a happy ending. Maybe none of us need a happy ending. My father once told me that life was made up of moments and that they're all worth living. I think he was right.

I have accepted to be the savior and I have accepted that I won't have a happy ending. But I have also realized that maybe this wasn't a burden but a privilege. Because if you stop waiting for something, if you stop living for tomorrow, you can actually start appreciating the gifts of today. That's what I've learned.

I stopped blaming people and I stopped building walls. Instead I chose to live and it was the right thing to do.

Now I take every single day and see it as an opportunity to be my own happiness.

I feel the warmth of two arms embracing me from behind as I begin to open my eyes again. A pair of two hot lips press against my neck, a little shiver raising the tiny hairs on my skin. My head leans against his as I smile.

I inhale.

This is happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everyone, for reading! It truly means the world to me, it really does. I hope you enjoyed it :) Cheers!


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